


blinded by the light

by falloutgirl



Category: EXO (Band), K-pop
Genre: And Eager To Please, Bodyguard Park Chanyeol, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Fingerfucking, Intercrural Sex, Jongin in lace gloves, Kim Jongin | Kai is a Little Shit, M/M, Milan Fashion Week, Mirror Sex, Model Kim Jongin | Kai, Park Chanyeol is Whipped, Porn With Plot, and the lace stockings, and with feelings!, i will always be this way, thats an actual tag... HELP, this fic is so self indulgent......i regret nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23551978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: Chanyeol looked down at the photo in the folder Jongdae handed him. Kai was dressed in a loose, nearly see-through red silk top, smirking at the camera like a modern day Mona Lisa—as if Chanyeol wouldn’t know what his face looks like. As if Chanyeol wouldn’t recognize the man who’s been at the center of nearly every single one of his poorly scripted fantasies for the last three years.International supermodel. Brand ambassador. GUCCI. KIM KAI.“This guy,” Chanyeol said, and he could feel his mouth dry.“Don’t mess it up,” Jongdae replied, oblivious to Chanyeol’s inner turmoil. Chanyeol heard the‘it would be bad for business’, in the implied.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 59
Kudos: 446





	blinded by the light

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this twitter [post](https://twitter.com/ninisbum/status/1236283948273205248?s=20) and [this](https://s3.amazonaws.com/richardmagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/03/13155151/exo-kai-gucci-campaigns-7.jpg) picture of Jongin. it's the [lace gloves](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ESQnutZWoAA9X8V.jpg), of course. you know the one.
> 
> [this](https://i.imgur.com/v9O9oFp.png) also makes a special appearance bc i couldn't help myself. thanks, wkorea.
> 
> this is something totally different from me; fic from chanyeol's pov instead. i really enjoyed writing this, i think writing from chanyeol's eyes and how he views jongin was an interesting challenge. it gave me a lot more room to practice showing the subtleties of jongin, plus, writing chanyeol being incredibly horny is so funny. this fic was really just an excuse to write porn. there's like 3 sex scenes in this. go figure.
> 
> title taken from Blinding Lights by The Weeknd, which i listened to on repeat when i wrote the smut. i will never change!
> 
> as always fic is beta'd mostly by myself with some light proofreading done by my friend sam. any and all mistakes are my owns, please excuse the typos, etc etc.
> 
> without further ado, please enjoy ~

Chanyeol accepts the assignment on a Monday, though he doesn’t actually meet the model he’s supposed to guard until Thursday morning. It had been pretty cut and dry in his boss’ office, but Jongdae was nothing if not efficient. 

“Not your usual clientele,” he said, and his voice was even, “but they’re paying a lot for the best.”

“Is that what I am?” Chanyeol snorted, his eyebrow still raised.

“I won’t dignify your ego with a response.” An eye roll. 

Chanyeol opened the small portfolio Jongdae handed him, the usual basic information on who he’d be guarding for roughly the next week or so. 

_International supermodel. Brand ambassador. GUCCI._

Chanyeol tried to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head, once the name fully registered. 

_KAI. KAI. KAI._

Name emblazoned across every billboard Chanyeol could think of down in Itaewon, moving photos spread across monitors in the subway, across the Gucci ads, in stores and in shops in Gangnam that Chanyeol would never think of walking into. He felt his breath catch once he passed by the nearly eight figure gross worth of endorsement deals this man seemed to rack up like a dime a dozen. There was a picture attached too, of course. Kai in a loose, nearly see-through red silk top, smirking at the camera like a modern day _Mona Lisa_ —as if Chanyeol wouldn’t know what his face looks like. As if Chanyeol wouldn’t recognize the man who’s been at the center of nearly every single one of his poorly scripted fantasies for the last three years. 

“This guy,” Chanyeol said, and he could feel his mouth dry. He wanted to tell Jongdae there is no way he could possibly do this. That his history of jerking off to fantasies of Kai’s body splayed out beneath him was simply unprofessional. 

“Don’t mess it up,” Jongdae replied, oblivious to Chanyeol’s inner turmoil. His tone was short and told Chanyeol he would hear nothing else of the sort. Chanyeol heard the ‘ _it would be bad for our business’_ , in the implied. 

His brain had kept going throughout the meeting, even if only at half-speed. Chanyeol was supposed to show up at a quarter to eight in the morning on Thursday, outside a modeling studio, get debriefed by the model’s manager, accompany them on a trip—all business as usual. As business as usual as he could be, when his palms were sweating at his sides, and he took extra pains to make it less than obvious as he wiped the sweat off on the fabric of his jeans. Chanyeol received the information with nothing more than a practiced nod of his head.

So now, Chanyeol stands here, dressed down in clothes that are supposed to help him blend in more—as per Kai’s manager’s request—as he waits outside the modeling agency’s headquarters for the bird to arrive in the nest. Chanyeol busies himself walking around the spacious lobby. He has no idea how modeling studios or agencies work, really, but then he feels like he probably doesn’t need too. He’s just the muscle after all.

He grabs a croissant from a table that says _complimentary_ and goes back to loitering, the busy assistants packing last minute outfits into more luggages running around Chanyeol back and forth like an extreme sport. He munches quietly on his croissant, sipping on the water bottle one of the assistants gave him, and hopes whoever is Kai’s manager shows his face soon enough. Chanyeol adjusts the Rolex on his wrist, a nervous tick. He wonders if his dark blue jeans and tight black shirt are enough. Kai is an internationally known fashion _name_. His brand deals, his commercials—Chanyeol has seen it all. Chanyeol has followed his career almost every step of the way. 

Chanyeol is a _fan,_ even if he won’t heartily admit it out loud. 

He feels nauseous at the idea of not dressing good enough for his client, before he shakes himself out of that mindset. _You’re just the security guard,_ Chanyeol admonishes to himself _, it doesn’t matter if you look like shit_. Chanyeol shoves the last of the croissant into his mouth and pops hand sanitizer between his fingers. He wonders once again where that damn manager is, before he gets a light tap on his shoulder.

Chanyeol turns around, on guard, the visor of his black baseball cap obscuring his vision. He looks down first, and notices the slight, short man who tapped his shoulder.

“You must be Mr. Park,” the man says, extending out a hand, “I’m Kim Junmyeon—Kai’s manager.”

Chanyeol breathes an internal sigh of relief. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Kim,” he says, returning the handshake. 

“Please, call me Junmyeon,” he says, before nodding towards the direction of a room at the back. Chanyeol follows quickly. They make their way past a flurry of more assistants and interns with tablets and clipboards in their hands, running about. 

“This isn’t all for Kai is it?” Chanyeol asks, curious.

“This agency manages thirty different models,” Junmyeon says, and his voice isn’t unkind. “We’re back here. Sorry I left you up in the front.”

Chanyeol waves him off as they step inside the back, which he notes is a huge, open space, with racks of clothes up and down the sides of the walls, and a huge vanity mirror set against the other side. There’s various bags of make up opened all over the vanity, and multiple women going back and forth between the makeup and a man sitting in the chair in front of the mirror.

 _That must be him,_ Chanyeol thinks, and gulps. He feels like he needs another bottle of water again. 

“Kai,” Junmyeon calls softly, and the man in the vanity chair spins around to face them. He has big, plump lips, round, wide eyes, and is dressed in nothing but the thinnest fucking robe Chanyeol has ever seen in his life. 

He clenches his fists at his sides out of habit, muscles in his arms tensing.

“Yes, hyung?” Kai’s voice calls back, and Chanyeol wants the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Kai’s voice sounds so much better in person, Chanyeol thinks. It’s rich, and warm, like a caress against skin. 

“Come here and meet Mr. Park,” Junmyeon continues, as Chanyeol focuses on trying to concentrate, “he’s going to be watching you in Milan. You’re gonna listen to him, right?”

“Yes, hyung,” Kai says automatically, before the makeup ladies deem him well enough to move from their chair so they can pack up all the makeup once again. Kai walks towards them with purposeful strides, hips swaying ever so softly, like he’s walking on a runway that Chanyeol’s at the end of. 

The closer he gets, the more Chanyeol feels like he’s doomed.

“Mr. Park and I are going to accompany you for these ten days in Italy,” Junmyeon’s voice sounds like he’s had to reiterate this a bunch of times. “Because I will be unavailable to watch you for several of those ten days, Mr. Park will be doing it instead.”

“Hyung,” Kai’s voice sounds so childish and petulant. _Oh, no,_ Chanyeol thinks, _he’s adorable too_. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“He is not a babysitter,” Junmyeon says, talking about Chanyeol like he isn’t there. It irks him a bit, even though he hates to admit it. “So help me God if you get lost in Italy, _again_ , I will never hear the end of it from corporate.”

“Call me Chanyeol,” he interjects, before Kai can get in another word at Junmyeon. He offers Kai a warm smile, and does not miss the very obvious once-over Kai gives him. It seems like the introduction has finally made Kai realize that Chanyeol was standing right there, and Chanyeol can not only feel but _see_ the way Kai’s eyes roam up and down his body, gaze especially stuck on his arms. Chanyeol has always felt comfortable in his physique—he works out four days a week, lifts weights, does cardio—but the object of his most sexual desires giving him a once-over actually makes him feel… 

_Nervous_. 

Junmyeon’s obvious coughing noise is enough to take Kai’s eyes off of Chanyeol’s body and onto his face. Kai returns the handshake Chanyeol offered and it seems to settle down from there. So long as Chanyeol doesn’t look at the glint in Kai’s eyes.

“It’s nice to work with you, Kai,” Chanyeol says, giving his usual introductory speech. “If you need anything at all while I’m by your side, don’t hesitate. Your safety is utmost. No request is too silly or too stupid.”

Kai seems to nod, absorbing Chanyeol’s words. He looks at Chanyeol over again silently, and Chanyeol feels like he’s getting a test. He offers a wide, careful smile, and keeps his eyes trained on Kai’s face, despite the attire. _Be professional,_ he reminds himself, _be professional._

Whatever Kai seemed to be searching for he must have found, because he says, “Call me Jongin,” so softly that Chanyeol almost doesn’t hear it.

“Jongin?” Chanyeol repeats, trying to keep himself cool. 

“Yes,” he says, “that’s my real name.” He offers a smile that almost looks _bashful._ “Kai is for the stage.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol replies, “Jongin.” _Jongin, Jongin, Jongin,_ Chanyeol thinks, feeling giddy. Like he’s just been let in on a secret. “It’s my pleasure to serve you,” he finishes and notices the slight quirk of Kai—no, _Jongin’s_ —eyebrow.

“It will be,” Jongin says, an eyebrow still raised, and those plush, plump lips twisted in a smirk. He walks back to where the assistants are, pulling out the outfit Jongin will wear at the airport, and lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

“Not bad,” Junmyeon says from the side, and Chanyeol forgot he was even standing there.

“Huh?” He feels like an idiot.

“Jongin is,” Junmyeon starts, voice thoughtful, “he’s never… hmm…”

“What?” Chanyeol asks.

Junmyeon turns to him and gives him a smile. Junmyeon has to look up to meet Chanyeol’s eyes.

“I know he’ll be in good hands,” Junmyeon says, reaching out and squeezing Chanyeol’s bicep. “We’ll be leaving for the airport in fifteen,” he adds, before walking away.

Chanyeol wonders what the hell he’s just gotten himself into.

***

The ride to the airport goes off without a hitch. Jongin doesn’t say much to him, and Chanyeol doesn’t really expect him too. Small talk with your bodyguard is weird, right? Junmyeon sits in the front seat talking a mile a minute to the driver, while Chanyeol and Jongin are huddled, perhaps slightly too close for comfort, in the backseat. Chanyeol watches Jongin as he watches the cars go by out the window. There isn’t much else to do besides watch him, Chanyeol thinks, and he finds himself studying the curve of Jongin’s jaw for far too long. 

By the time they arrive at the airport, there're fangirls there, snapping pics of Jongin with their DSLRs and camera phones. Chanyeol stands guard by his side, ready to deliver a swift arm to anyone who got too close for comfort. None of that happened, though, fortunately, and people didn’t nearly get as rowdy as they do for when idols walk in public. Chanyeol likes to think it’s because all the women trying to take photos of Jongin got distracted by his huge, muscular arms. He won’t voice this out loud, of course. He doesn’t want to be proven wrong.

The twelve hour flight passes mostly in sleep—for Jongin, at least—in the first class cabin, with Chanyeol being given the seat directly next to him. Junmyeon sits by himself a few rows in front of them, seeming to enjoy the peace. Chanyeol briefly wonders if this was done on purpose, if Junmyeon is testing him to see how proactive his skills are—even if they are thirty-five thousand feet in the air. Jongin doesn’t exchange many words with Chanyeol either, merely grunts in acknowledgement, and about twenty minutes into the flight he is out like a light. Chanyeol sits, almost rigid in his seat, letting the in-flight movies be his own personal entertainment as the hours tick by. At some point, the flight attendants go up and down for service, and Chanyeol kills time by eating the food. About three hours into the flight, Jongin wakes up, and he gently smacks his lips together. Chanyeol wordlessly hands him a water bottle, and calls the attendant over, who brings Jongin something to eat.

Jongin smiles softly, working his way through a banana muffin and some chicken breast. He eats slowly, fingers putting the food in his mouth, and Chanyeol watches him carefully, clenching his hands against the seat rest. He wants to put the food in Jongin’s mouth, feel the way Jongin’s lips would brush against his fingers. He tries to focus back on his movie, but his brain can’t function properly.

Jongin lets out a sigh next to him, drinking more water, before resting his head against the pillows given to them. Chanyeol thinks Jongin looks beautiful even in sleep, even in this gross, claustrophobic airplane. He settles back in to finish his movie— _The Incredibles—_ and hopes the rest of the plane ride passes quickly. 

***

Chanyeol is woken up by a short, but incessant tapping on his shoulder. He stirs awake quickly, and is met with the sight of Jongin’s nose pressed up close to his face. 

“Hello,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol blinks. 

“Hi,” he says, voice raspy. “What’s up?”

Jongin stifles a yawn. Chanyeol looks up at his entertainment monitor and sees they still have about five hours left of the flight. “Recline your chair too, please.” 

“Huh?”

Jongin looks at Chanyeol like he’s sprouted another head. “Recline your chair,” he asks again. 

Chanyeol stretches his neck out to the side, looking at Jongin. His hair is sleep mussed and there are gentle pillow lines on his cheek. Chanyeol thinks this must be the first real bout of sleep Jongin’s gotten in a long while. His chair is reclined back, and his pillow is there. Chanyeol feels confused once again, still not sure why Jongin wants his chair back as well. 

“I want to lay on your arm,” Jongin answers the unspoken question Chanyeol had in his head. “It’s more comfortable for me than just this small pillow.” Jongin juts his bottom lip out, and Chanyeol simply feels like there is no way he can tell this man _no_. 

“Okay,” Chanyeol agrees, because of course Jongin wants more space to spread himself out while they wait for their flight to arrive. There isn’t any other reason why, Chanyeol tells himself, _there just can’t be._

So, Chanyeol reclines his chair, matching it with Jongin’s, his movie he fell asleep through long forgotten. He kicks his feet up on the foot rest area, mimicking Jongin’s movements, and the space between them is nearly nonexistent. Jongin lays his head back down on the pillow, moving the arm rest dividing them out of the way. Chanyeol leans himself back to, head rigid against the airplane seat. Jongin reaches out and grabs Chanyeol’s arm, man handling him into the way he likes, and Chanyeol soon feels Jongin’s cheek resting against the meat of his upper arm.

Chanyeol doesn’t dare to move.

All too soon, he feels more than sees Jongin’s breathing even out, little puffs of hot air hitting his skin and reminding him of the very peculiar situation he seems to have gotten himself in. 

Chanyeol goes soon after that, letting the rumble of the plane lull him into sleep.

And when the flight attendant comes around hours later to gently nudge Chanyeol awake to prepare for landing, Chanyeol pointedly ignores the looks Junmyeon gives him from his own seat three rows up.

***

Italy is beautiful, is the first thing Chanyeol thinks once they’ve arrived outside their hotel. The ride from the airport was chaos, but that’s how it is in every ride from the airport in Chanyeol’s experience. The scenic view outside was a lot better, with the tall buildings in the distance and the various churches dotting Chanyeol’s view. Milan is bustling, Chanyeol notes, filled with people who are going about their daily lives, and an incredible amount of tourists who are taking pictures of anything they see. Chanyeol is excited for a moment of reprieve on this excursion—he really would like to see the Cathedral, if not anything else.

Chanyeol carries his and Jongin’s luggage into the lobby of the _Grand Hotel et de Milan_ , where it is promptly taken from his hands by a group of bellboys already ready to bring the items up to the room. Junmyeon is at the front desk already, speaking urgently to the receptionist in rapid fire English. Chanyeol picks up a few words here and there, but his mind settles down on “bedroom” and “mistake.”

By the time he and Jongin get closer to Junmyeon, the man lets out a sigh of frustration. 

“A small change of plans,” he says, switching back to Korean, and Jongin gives him an inquisitive glance. 

“Ah, corporate reserved two rooms instead of three,” Junmyeon says at the both of them, and then, “We are going to room together,” directed solely at Jongin.

“No,” Jongin whines, and that childish tone to his voice comes back again. “Hyung, I love you, but I seriously cannot share a room with you. Again.”

“Jongin—” 

“No,” Jongin says once again, and Junmyeon sighs. 

Chanyeol notices this must be a regular occurrence, and he’s starting to catch on to the way that Junmyeon feels less like Jongin’s manager and sometimes more like his brother. 

“Jongin,” Junmyeon says exasperated, “we are going to sha—”

“We can share,” Chanyeol cuts in, before Junmyeon and Jongin start actually arguing in the lobby. Chanyeol can spot fatigue easily on other people, and he can tell by the stubborn set of Jongin’s shoulders that he is simply not going to bow out.

“Yeah?” Jongin says, and his voice goes back to being soft, with a gentle note of something _else_ there. 

“I don’t mind sharing,” Chanyeol notes, and sees the way Junmyeon looks relieved. “It’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Mr. Park,” Junmyeon says. 

“I said to call me Chanyeol,” he replies, and then looks to Jongin as well. “Just Chanyeol is fine.”

Junmyeon nods, before turning back to the front desk receptionist to collect their room keys. Jongin leans his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder, and Chanyeol tries not to focus on the heat of Jongin’s breath again. 

“There’s uh, just one other thing,” Junmyeon says, handing them the keycards, “the rooms only have one—”

“We’ll see you later!” Jongin interrupts, and starts pulling Chanyeol by his arm towards the elevators. Chanyeol sees the exhaustion settling into Jongin’s features once the elevators close, and stands just that bit closer to Jongin’s side, in case he happens to fall over. 

Their room is on the fourth floor of the hotel, and Chanyeol is quick to walk himself and Jongin to their room and unlock the door. Their luggages are right by the entrance, and the windows let in an amazing amount of natural light. His eyes quickly scan over their hotel room. It is definitely expensive, with a sitting area, a couch, and a full length mirror. The drapes are a deep, golden, tone and the room itself feels very homey for something so far away. 

Finally though, his eyes settle on the best part. It is a huge, king sized bed, which takes up most of the space on one side of the room, right near the wall mirror. The big couch is situated right in front of it, with the sitting room a bit away, closer to the front entrance. The room is nice, Chanyeol thinks, actually it’s better than _nice. It’s fucking amazing._

That is, until it dawns on him, that there is one bed in the room, and nothing else.

 _Oh,_ Chanyeol thinks, _that’s what Junmyeon meant._

“There’s only one bed,” he says to no one in particular, and sees as Jongin is already opening his suitcases and putting his clothes away in the closet and the multitude of drawers they have inside the room.

“I have eyes,” Jongin replies, and Chanyeol merely shrugs. He goes to his one luggage and opens it up, taking out his toiletries and some clothes and leaving it on the vanity in the bathroom. Chanyeol notes that there’s a glass shower stall _and_ a bathtub, as if this hotel couldn’t get any more expensive than it already was. Chanyeol turns the water on and takes a quick shower, eager to wash off the smell of the airplane from his skin. He belatedly realizes he’s hungry too, it being almost nine in the evening, and figures he will go on a food run after his shower. 

Chanyeol towel dries his hair after the shower, and dresses himself quickly, before realizing he forgot to bring himself a shirt. He hangs his towel up on the rack, exiting the bathroom, and finds Jongin dressed in a robe—decorated with little brown bears—sitting politely on the bed. Jongin notices Chanyeol immediately, eyes raking up and down his body like he did at the studio back in Korea. Chanyeol feels self conscious under Jongin’s gaze, and the urge to cover his midriff is at an all time high.

“I forgot a shirt,” Chanyeol says lamely, and feels the way the water droplets cling to his skin. He reaches his luggage and pulls a plain, white t-shirt out, laying it out in front of him. He can still feel Jongin’s gaze burning like lasers against his skin, and Chanyeol turns away from him, to hide the flush he knows is surely covering his cheeks. 

Chanyeol turns around and sees Jongin playing on his phone, the gentle noises he can hear even across the room. He sits on the couch softly, moving the throw pillows to one side. “I’ll take the couch,” he says, even though it feels like stating the obvious since Jongin is already laying on the bed.

Jongin puts his phone down, and studies Chanyeol intently. Chanyeol has half a mind, that Jongin looks like he’s about to offer the other half of the bed to him, before Jongin gives him a short smile. “Okay,” he replies, before going back to his game. 

Chanyeol releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and wonders if every interaction with Jongin is always going to feel this electrically charged, or if Chanyeol is merely imagining half of the things he feels like he’s reading off Jongin’s face.

“Are you hungry?” Chanyeol asks, grabbing his wallet. “I’m going to look for something to eat. Anything in particular you want?”

“I can eat chicken,” Jongin says, “just chicken.”

Chanyeol nods, and figures it must be something to do with his diet. Chicken is easy. Chanyeol can eat chicken, too. He slips his shoes back on, and is almost to the door, before Jongin calls his name.

“Yes?” Chanyeol turns around, and he sees Jongin is sitting up on the edge of the bed now, his bear robe half off, exposing his bare shoulder. Chanyeol wants to bite his fist. How can one man look so good, with just the smallest hint of skin on display?

“Nice tattoos,” Jongin mutters, and his mouth quirks up gently, eyes smoldering. 

Chanyeol makes an aborted nod before closing the door behind him.

 _Nice tattoos_ , he said, the words repeating in Chanyeol’s mind. He doesn’t often make it a point to be shirtless in front of others, because the tattoos going up his back and near his shoulders have gotten him into more trouble than necessary. The small tattoos, the one on his ring finger and forearm, are enough to catch a glance, but nothing crazy. 

The phoenix across his back though, however, is always a different story. It escaped his mind, when he got out of the shower, that he should have just covered himself with a towel when he exited. But that would’ve been weird of course, because he had his sweatpants on—and who wraps their upper body in a towel when they have half their clothes on, anyway? 

Chanyeol feels a blush rise to his cheeks, the tone of Jongin’s words, and the heat of his gaze, settling into the pit of his stomach even long after he’s purchased their dinner and walked back to the hotel.

***

“Change of plans,” Junmyeon greets them again in the morning, bright and early. Chanyeol has been up since six a.m., puttering about in the room. He did a few quiet exercises, near the sitting area, away from the bed where Jongin was fast asleep. Chanyeol spent his morning before Junmyeon arrived at their room doing anything he could possibly think of, careful to not let his eyes rest too long on Jongin’s sleeping form. 

He felt bad watching Jongin sleep, and would only let his eyes settle for a moment to make sure Jongin was breathing, before flitting around to the next mundane task he could think of.

So, Junmyeon’s arrival at eight is a warm welcome, even if Jongin is still passed out cold on the bed. Junmyeon hands him a warm cup of coffee from the cafe in the lobby, and goes to the bedroom area to get Jongin ready.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Junmyeon chimes, before shaking the absolute shit out of Jongin’s side.

“Ugh, fuck you, hyung,” Jongin whines, and that childish tone is in full force.

“Come on, come on, get up. We have a full day of shoots today and you need to wake up now if you don’t want to look puffy in any of these photos.”

Jongin whines—like honest to God, _whines_ —and Chanyeol hides the smile that can’t stop forming on his face behind one of his hands. 

“We also have a change of plans today,” Junmyeon adds, and he turns to Chanyeol to motion to him too. Chanyeol moves in closer, sitting on his own makeshift bed, the couch.

“I won’t be accompanying you to any of the magazine pictorials today—there’s three, just for today—because I have a meeting with GQ to square away the interview coming up.”

“Okay,” Jongin says, and his voice sounds much more alert, “I can do that myself.”

“Chanyeol’s going to accompany you,” Junmyeon says at the same time. And Chanyeol seems a bit surprised at first, but rolls with it. He knows he was only really here for Jongin’s day at fashion week—Thursday—but getting a chance to see the behind the scenes aspects feels like a great opportunity, too. 

Chanyeol nods at Junmyeon, and sees a sparkle in Jongin’s eye, if only for a moment. “I can follow him. I’m not, uh, sure what all of that entails, but if it’s just about watching him, I think I can handle that.”

“Yes, you’ll definitely be watching me,” Jongin says softly, before slinking away to the bathroom to get himself ready for breakfast. Chanyeol feels like he’s missing something, once again, but his attention is brought back once he hears Junmyeon calling his name.

“You’re not his manager, so it might feel quite long,” Junmyeon confesses, “Jongin’s a professional, he already knows what to do. You guys will show up and they provide the clothes, they do the styling. Jongin brings himself and his charisma. There might be a bit at the end where they do an interview—one of the shoots today is for another magazine spread—but other than that, you just stand there and,” Junmyeon pauses as if to find the right words to say, “watch Jongin’s magic.”

“Watch the magic,” Chanyeol repeats, and Junmyeon nods. “I can do that.” Chanyeol tries his best to contain his excitement. _I can do that and all more,_ he wants to say _, I can even take the fucking pictures if you like._

Junmyeon reaches out and grips Chanyeol’s bicep again, squeezing, pulling his brain out of his mile a minute thoughts. “For both of our sakes,” Junmyeon says, “I sure hope you can.”

***

Junmyeon wasn’t kidding when he said these photoshoots would be long. The stylists and the photographer barely pay Chanyeol any mind, flitting back and forth between outfits and other extravagant costumes they dress Jongin in. Chanyeol finds himself sitting right on the outside of the backdrop, munching on some snacks he grabbed from the table near him. He doesn’t think it’s that bad honestly, even if the motions are repetitive, because the real prize is right in front of him. The _click click click_ of the photographer’s camera shutter fills the room, along with his voice calling out words or phrases of emotions he wants Jongin to evoke. Chanyeol can’t tear his eyes away once Jongin is finally in front of the camera and in his element. 

It seems like he’s put on a different skin, with how his eyes darken, his jaw clenches and his lips move to the rhythm. One of the assistants turns some music on, sultry, American R&B, and Chanyeol watches the way Jongin gets lost in the beat, hips swinging, arms tensing, his toned body flexing easily. He gulps around his half eaten donut, throat and mouth dry. 

This is something Chanyeol’s always wanted to see, the way Kai _performs._ Chanyeol’s got all of his magazines back home—and always wondered what it took to make them. How the aura of someone like _Kai_ came to be. Chanyeol feels, once again, like he’s being let in on a little secret. Like he’s getting a chance to peel back the layers on someone’s he’s admired for so long.

Now if only said person knew he was a fan.

“Sultry, Kai, I want sultry,” the photographer calls out, “The theme is _Sinful Pleasure,_ I want to see it in your eyes!”

Jongin’s gaze flits over to Chanyeol, and he feels like a deer caught in headlights. He has a quick moment to wonder if Jongin is looking at someone behind him, before Jongin makes his jaw lax, opening his mouth, his pink tongue peeking out ever so slightly. 

_It’s like he’s having an orgasm,_ Chanyeol’s disgusting brain immediately supplies, and Chanyeol shuts his jaw, the sound reverberating in his skull. _Bad thought, bad thought,_ he chides himself, _you absolute bastard,_ he implores. 

He looks up again, focused, and it feels like Jongin’s gaze never leaves him, even when he closes his eyes, to the continued praise of the photographer, a quick fire _yes yes yes_ as he takes shot after shot of Jongin looking like he’s in ecstasy. 

Chanyeol gets up from his chair, almost falling over, before making his way back to the snack table, to give himself something else to do with his hands. He wipes his clammy palms against his jeans, and suddenly feels out of his element once again. 

Chanyeol turns back to Jongin, and sees a smirk still firmly on his face. Jongin winks in his direction, so quickly Chanyeol thinks that maybe he simply imagined it—before he turns his head fully to face Chanyeol, and gives him a brilliant, brilliant, smile.

“That’s what I wanna see, Kai,” the photographer says, and the barrage of camera clicks go off again. Jongin turns back to face the main lens, and seamlessly falls back into it.

“Ugh,” Chanyeol sighs, it is definitely going to be a very long day. 

*** 

The rest of this first shoot passes by in a flurry of four more changes of clothes and what feels like a thousand clicks of a camera before Jongin is summarily pushed towards Chanyeol’s general direction.

“We’re done,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol nods, glancing at his watch. It’s after lunch time, and he figures now is as good a time as any to eat, before they have to report to Jongin’s next photoshoot.

“Hungry?” he offers, and watches Jongin nod. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and Chanyeol tracks the movement with his eyes, an overwhelming urge to bite Jongin’s bottom lip and suck it into his own mouth taking over.

“-yeol? Chanyeol?” 

Jongin’s voice snaps Chanyeol out of his daydream, and he looks up at Jongin’s eyes, offering a small smile. Jongin’s eyes are alight, a grin on his face. 

“Sorry, just—distracted,” Chanyeol says, “it’s been a busy day.”

Jongin seems happy by his admission, and Chanyeol doesn’t want to think about what that excitement means.

“Chicken?” Chanyeol offers, since Junmyeon gave him a run down of the list of foods Jongin can eat on his diet during shoots, and doesn’t want to get in trouble with the manager later in the evening.

Jongin nods, and grabs Chanyeol’s hand, pulling him out of the studio and to the car. He rattles on the entire walk about the clothes he wore, the photographer’s voice, and reminding Chanyeol about the next—and final—shoot for the day. 

“So how was it?” Jongin asks, as they navigate across the parking lot. Chanyeol wonders why he parked so far away. 

“Which one?”

“My shoot,” Jongin clarifies, “did you like it?”

“I did,” Chanyeol says honestly, and truth be told, even if he did sit around for nearly three hours and only get in the way of the assistants, he enjoyed the time he spent on set watching Jongin in his _element_. The way his facial expressions rippled like water under the photographer’s words, how the set of his jaw or the purse of his lips could tell an entire story. 

Truth be told, Chanyeol more than enjoyed watching Jongin behind the camera—he was entranced. It was more than he could have ever hoped to see. And something Chanyeol knows he will never forget.

His hands felt clammy at the thought of seeing Jongin again, in front of another camera later this evening. He felt grateful at least, that what was supposed to have been three shoots today ended up only being two, with Junmyeon texting him last minute that the shoot they were supposed to be in now, would be rescheduled for later this week. Chanyeol breathed a sigh of relief, knowing there’s no way he would have been able to last through another couple of hours of seeing Jongin all dressed up. 

“Was it boring?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol looks over at him. He has a faraway look in his eye, near contemplative.

“No,” Chanyeol says. “Long—yes. But never boring. I promise. I rather enjoyed myself, actually,” he rambles on.

Jongin’s smile in return is just as brilliant as the one he gave him in the studio, except maybe this time even more so, because there are no cameras around here to play this too. 

It’s for Chanyeol and Chanyeol alone, and that thought makes his gut burn something furious.

Chanyeol reflexively clenches his fist at his side—calming himself down. _Get it together,_ he chides himself, _you have a job to do._

And yet, Chanyeol thinks, the entire walk to the car, Jongin had not let go of his hand once.

***

The next few days pass by the same way with Chanyeol accompanying Jongin on his various pictorials, magazine spreads, and pre-release showcases. Junmyeon kept having to stop by in the morning, bow out at the last minute for certain shoots, and leave the reigns more or less in Chanyeol’s hands. He wonders how the manager is doing, what with everything seemingly being rescheduled so last minute and suddenly. Chanyeol merely nodded in agreement each time, content in his duty to follow Jongin wherever he needed to be.

In the studios and in the pre-shoots, Jongin has a sharp eye when it comes to outfits—pulling things off assistants hands, off the various racks of clothes given to him to choose from, and making something out of nothing. 

It’s magic, Chanyeol thinks, to watch the furrow of Jongin’s eyebrow against his face as he examines all the articles of clothing given to him, and starts to pull something that seems like it’ll never work. 

But on Jongin’s body, it always does.

Chanyeol’s done a fair bit more of research himself in the wee hours of the night when he can’t sleep because the couch is giving his back too many problems, and starts to recognize some of the clothes laid out in front of Jongin as pieces from the last Gucci fashion show. Chanyeol’s admittedly behind on keeping up with the new designs as of late, especially when, quite frankly, Jongin’s face is not there on the front cover of the magazine or the front row of the fashion show.

Chanyeol does study the latest outfits from this particular one, and notes how on the models on the website, the clothes sit against their skin, just to showcase to the crowd of individuals what this season’s stylings will be. It’s clinical, to the point, and nothing like the way the fashion shows are depicted on T.V.

There’s no pomp, no circumstance—and certainly no fire. 

But it’s incredible, Chanyeol thinks, how Jongin can make these outfits come _alive_.

They mould to him like a second skin, against his frame like they were cut and sewn to his exact physique, tight across the chest, legs, abs, back—there is no moment where Chanyeol thinks that Jongin is just _another model_. There is never a time where he wonders if the clothes are too loose, too strange, or too weird.

There is only the time when Chanyeol watches Jongin, in between changing from one outfit into another, eyes sharp and calculating as he pulls garments from different hands, that he knows there is no place else that Jongin _belongs_.

 _International star for a reason_ , Chanyeol thinks, falling into another restless sleep.

***

Today’s day of the rescheduled shoot, and Chanyeol finds himself pacing back and forth away from the assistants as much as physically possible. The shoot in question is some experimental piece with _WKorea_ , which is why there seems to be about three hundred or so cameras on the set, locked in place at every single angle possible. Junmyeon, once again, couldn’t make it, claiming he had other things to do. Chanyeol was about to question him, because surely Jongin’s manager should be here, right? But before he even got the chance to, Jongin was already whisking him away, out of the hotel room with nothing more than a smirk on his face.

Chanyeol shoves his hands into his very comfortable dad jeans and tries not to stare at Jongin in front of the cameras. It’s been a fruitless attempt every step of the way, and Chanyeol knows that Jongin _knows_ he is staring. His only consolation is hoping that Jongin thinks his staring equates to being engaged in all these behind the scenes actions and not anything more nefarious of the sort. He runs a hand through his hair, forgoing the baseball cap for today. Chanyeol feels more and more out of his element the more of these activities he attends in Junmyeon’s stead.

His eyes rake over to where the photographer is calling Jongin’s name, as the sounds of hundreds of cameras click together. There’s someone off to the side, perhaps the person who will be interviewing Jongin for the magazine later, calling out random words and names. Chanyeol stands a bit closer this time around, seeing as the photoshoot feels a bit more underway and less harried. 

“It’s a dance,” the magazine person calls out to Jongin, and Chanyeol moves closer. She’s a woman, with straight black hair and a very serious, but soft expression on her face. Chanyeol notices her look at him out of the corner of her eye, and beckons him over with a smile.

“Irene,” she says, “you must be Kai’s bodyguard.” 

Chanyeol nods, introducing himself. His eyes don’t leave Jongin’s body frame once.

“Whimsical,” Irene shouts out, and Chanyeol watches as Jongin’s body and his dance moves in a much more cheerful way. 

“Kai is very good,” Irene continues, “he listens well. His body is like clay. He’s malleable.”

“You’ve interviewed him a lot then?” Chanyeol asks softly.

“I got him his first cover with us years ago,” a small smile graces her face, “seeing how much he’s achieved now makes me feel like a proud mother.” Irene snorts before shouting out another round of emotive words to Jongin who takes it all in kind, adjusting and changing with ease. 

“Oh my God,” Chanyeol says, “you’re Bae Joohyun,” falling out of his mouth. At that, Irene seems to turn towards Chanyeol, full bodied, and gives him a once over. She raises an eyebrow.

“I-I’ve read all your pieces about Jon—Kai,” Chanyeol corrects, “I really liked your interview you did with him last year—the one with the puppies.”

Irene smiles, “I take it you’re a fan then, huh?”

Chanyeol shrugs, trying hard to remain nonchalant. “It… it depends on who’s asking, I guess.” 

“Don’t worry,” Irene laughs, “I don’t bite. And neither does Kai.” She smiles at him mischievously before turning back to Jongin, but not before giving Chanyeol one last quick once over.

The sound of the camera shutter keeps going, the photographer’s voice and Irene’s sounding so far away to Chanyeol’s ears. His mind is only caught on the way Jongin moves with such practiced, confident ease, like he was made for more than just being in front of a camera and stationary. A vision comes to Chanyeol’s mind, of Jongin on a stage, of him twirling around in a loose fitting white shirt, gaze intense, hair messy, body mesmerizing.

Irene, bless her heart, interrupts Chanyeol’s inner turmoil and says, “He was a dancer before he was a model,” answering Chanyeol’s wordless question. “He’s good isn’t he?”

“Better than,” Chanyeol blurts out, completely taken by Jongin. He looks to Irene who’s carefully hiding a smirk behind her hand. Chanyeol internally thanks her for at least pretending to believe he still has some dignity.

Irene and he exchange small conversation every now and then as they stay watching Jongin, fully engrossed in his moves. He’s come off the set just two times so that they can change his clothes, Irene continuing to direct Jongin’s movements and grace with nothing more than a few choice words thrown around. It’s a different change up to see Jongin utilize his entire body for something like this, as opposed to the last couple of shoots Chanyeol sat in that were very much focused on his face alone. Jongin seems much more at ease too, getting to dance around in front of many cameras, getting to use his arms, hands, and legs to tell a story as well.

Irene gives Chanyeol a gentle goodbye before he sees her running off to talk to some assistants to make sure the area is set up for the interview later on. Jongin walks off the set in a big robe, the photographer calling for a quick break. He slinks over to Chanyeol carefully, like a cat, eyes bright with a smile on his face. His hair is styled up and off his forehead, and Chanyeol can see just the hint of gold glitter they’ve placed on each of his eyelids.

 _He’s beautiful,_ Chanyeol thinks, and his stomach does flip flops the closer and closer Jongin draws nearer to him.

“Made a new friend?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol is momentarily caught off guard before he realizes Jongin is referring to _Irene_. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies easily, “I was just chatting with Irene and she explained to me what was going on.”

“Chatting…” Jongin repeats and he has this unreadable look on his face. Chanyeol watches the way Jongin’s jaw clenches, the way his face closes like a set of shutters. If Chanyeol didn’t know any better, he’d say that Jongin was jealous.

A minute shiver runs up Chanyeol’s spine, at the prospect of such a thing. At the idea of Jongin somehow being jealous because he saw Chanyeol talking and laughing with someone else. 

_Only in your dreams,_ he chides to himself, _what is there for him to be jealous of?_

“Yeah, small talk you know, nothing crazy,” Chanyeol rubs the back of his neck, “is there some sort of unspoken rule about talking to the magazine article writer?”

That seems to snap Jongin out of whatever funk is permeating in his eyes. His jaw unclenches, but the sharp look in his gaze never abates. 

“Of course there isn’t,” Jongin says, at the same time turning back towards the set to see the photographer ready for the next round. “Watch this one closely,” Jongin says, and his voice sounds rough and husky. “I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Chanyeol doesn’t even have a chance to reply before Jongin is already walking back the way he came, assistants pushing him behind clothes curtains while he dresses for the next set of pictures. Chanyeol feels a weirdness settle over him, as he wonders what was going on in Jongin’s head. Perhaps he’s just stressed out from how many photoshoots they’ve been too? Perhaps he’s hungry and wants food? Chanyeol for the life of him, cannot fathom a reason why.

“Okay,” the photographer’s voice announces, “let’s get started again everyone.” He shakes his head to rid himself of Jongin’s confusing questions. He’ll ask Jongin how he’s feeling later tonight, after they’ve each had a decent meal. 

They’ve replaced the hundred or so cameras with screen monitors now, and Chanyeol notices how each monitor behind Jongin is zoomed in on a particular close up on his body. Jongin’s new outfit seems more comfortable than the last few ones. He’s in a long, patterned coat, a peach colored button up, black slacks and loafers with a buckle on them. Once again, Chanyeol is mesmerized by how Jongin can make any outfit combination look insanely _good_. 

“On your back, Kai,” the photographer says, and the comment is enough to snap Chanyeol out of his gazing. He double takes so hard from Jongin to the photographer that he feels like his neck is gonna snap from the stretch.

“On your what now,” Chanyeol mutters to himself, voice cracking. Jongin seems to know the exact moment Chanyeol’s meltdown begins, because he watches as Jongin sends him one very _pointed_ look, before he gets on the floor, laying on his back. Someone from across the room starts playing music to ‘set the mood’ and Chanyeol feels like his breathing is going to stop any moment. Jongin’s got his entire torso off of the ground, his entire body weight resting on his upper shoulders and neck. His feet are pointed straight up into the air, while his hands remain calmly on the floor at his sides. Jongin moves the lower half of his body back down, the photographer instructing him to do whatever feels natural. 

Chanyeol feels his own body move without volition to stand closer to the set. Now from a better angle, he can actually see Jongin’s face as he’s lowering and raising his torso. His mouth is set in a soft line, his eyes shining. It seems Jongin doesn’t feel any pain in this position, and if Chanyeol could surmise, it seems the glint in his eyes only spurs him further.

The bad thing now, about standing almost directly behind the main photographer, is that now _Chanyeol_ is in Jongin’s line of sight, too. He seems to love this new development, if the smirk he sends directly at Chanyeol’s face means anything. His mouth quirks up, defiant, as his expression tells Chanyeol something like _just watch and see_.

Jongin lifts his legs and torso back up high above his head, and he does something Chanyeol’s never seen another person do. He straightens his legs, bending them completely forward, so close towards his face that his legs are nearly parallel to the floor. He’s bent his body entirely in half, and his eyes do not leave Chanyeol’s once.

Chanyeol coughs into his hand, tugging at the collar of his shirt. He finds himself trapped, like a caged animal, unable to look away. It’s funny really, how he feels pinned by Jongin’s stare when Chanyeol’s doing nothing but standing on the set. It’s Jongin who’s on the floor, body bent tight like a spring, feet far above his head, stuck in an insanely compromising position.

And yet, Chanyeol feels like Jongin’s the one in control. He bites his bottom lip sucking it into his mouth, and Chanyeol watches the way his little tongue peeks out, to wet his lips. Jongin stretches his legs, still above his head, into a ‘v’ shape, and Chanyeol feels a moan escape his lips. He quickly coughs into his hand, hoping the music and the fact that no one is paying attention to him is going to set anyone off.

Jongin reaches a hand up, fingers clutching the back of his left leg, pulling it tighter towards his chest. He throws his head back, against the floor, mouth open, eyes facing the camera situated above the set. It’s the same feeling like at the first shoot days ago, but so, _so_ , much worse. _It’s like he’s having an orgasm_ , Chanyeol’s awful brain replies, _it’s like he is trying to kill me_.

Chanyeol bites the fleshy part of his thumb to muffle a scream, before turning around quickly and almost knocking one of the assistants over. He finds solace at the snack table, once again, shoveling pastries into his mouth in the hopes that it will calm his racing heart down.

He sneaks one glance back over to the set, and thankfully sees Jongin is no longer on the floor. 

He is, though, looking at Chanyeol directly, a big smile on his face. He winks at Chanyeol so fast Chanyeol thinks he’s once again imagined it, before going into the next part of the photoshoot.

Chanyeol clutches his chest, as if he was clutching pearls. He sees Irene at the other side of the shoot, talking to another woman, and she glances his way, not even bothering to hide her laughter behind her hands this time.

***

Sitting in on interviews is much different than the photoshoots, Chanyeol realizes. With the photoshoot all wrapped up, Irene now takes her time to ask Jongin some rapid fire questions. They go through easy things, asking him his favorite food, his hobbies, his favorite football player—Messi, naturally—and Jongin’s face lights up at every turn. 

It’s a different side to Jongin than Chanyeol’s seen before, a more playful, more fun loving one. 

Rarely does Jongin ever partake in video interviews like this, the price of being a model means most of his words are written out on the page. Chanyeol can only think of one previous video interview before, the one with the puppies, also done by Irene as well. He ponders for a brief moment if this is on purpose. Irene did in fact get Jongin his “big break” and she did say she felt like such a proud mom when it came to him.

It’s only natural, Chanyeol decides, that she would want everyone to see every side of Jongin possible. That she would want him to be known beyond his face, that the people closest to Jongin would want everyone to love him just the way they do. For the world to see Jongin beyond the magazine pictorials, beyond the _mask_. 

Jongin’s awful laughter cuts through Chanyeol’s brain like a knife, to his core. This is something _different,_ he surmises, as he sees Jongin’s eyes close into half crescents at a particularly funny joke from Irene. He claps his hands together like a seal, taps his boots against the floor, and laughs full bodied into it, leaning so far out of his chair Chanyeol is afraid he’ll fall. He finds himself smiling at Jongin’s antics, cataloging the way his smile curves up at the edges, and how the dimple on his cheek is prominent against his face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chanyeol kind of loudly blurts out at Jongin, and suddenly the laughter stops. His eyes turn away from Irene and focus back again on Chanyeol’s face, mouth open in a gentle ‘ _o_.’ 

“Uh…” Chanyeol says smartly, “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you did,” Irene snorts, and starts putting her things away. “But we’re done here, so it’s fine, you didn’t ruin my interview.”

“Um…” Chanyeol says, looking back at Jongin. His face hasn’t changed since, and if Chanyeol didn’t know any better he’d say that Jongin’s cheeks looked just a bit _pink_. 

_It’s not possible,_ he tells himself, _I only called him beautiful_.

Chanyeol swallows around what feels like a lump in this throat, as he watches the way Jongin resets right before his eyes, how the momentary shock of Chanyeol’s blunder cuts right through him, and how his face returns to his natural resting state. Jongin’s gaze has not let up once, and Chanyeol met his eyes all the same. He raises up an eyebrow at Chanyeol, a gentle act of defiance. Chanyeol feels once again he’s been let in on a secret, but this one in particular is like one Jongin doesn’t want anyone to know.

“I’ll see you next time, Jongin-ah,” Irene says cheerfully, and the reminder of her presence is enough to cause Jongin to finally look away.

“Thank you, noona,” Jongin replies, jutting his lips out at Irene. She puts her bag down and walks over to Jongin, wrapping him in a hug even as he remains seated in his chair. She ruffles his hair, just a little bit, and presses a kiss on his head.

“I did what you asked,” Irene says in a stage whisper as she not so slyly looks over at Chanyeol’s direction. “I’ll see you around again, okay? Tell your sisters to call me!” 

“I will, I will,” Jongin says, even as Irene pulls his ear. Chanyeol watches their banter back and forth just a little bit longer, before Irene turns to him and offers him a smile.

“I’ll see you around too, Chanyeol,” she says, and he and Jongin watch as she leaves. Chanyeol turns back to Jongin with a confused look on his face, but Jongin is already up and out of his chair, changing back into the clothes he arrived on set in.

“I’m starving,” Jongin announces, pulling Chanyeol along by the arm.

“Are you—what just happened back there?” 

“A secret,” Jongin says, still tugging Chanyeol along by the arm to the car.

“Are you gonna tell me about it?” Chanyeol says as he unlocks the vehicle, internally whining at the momentary loss of contact with Jongin’s hand. He closes his driver’s door and turns the car engine over quickly.

“Nope,” Jongin replies, buckling his seatbelt. He has a twinkle in his eyes, and Chanyeol suppresses the urge to reach his hand across the middle of the vehicle and squeeze Jongin’s thigh. 

He sighs to himself as he pulls out of the parking garage. “Chicken?” he offers, thinking about Jongin’s diet.

“Actually,” Jongin says, “I’m craving a different kind of meat.”

Chanyeol turns the car at the traffic light, and drives along slowly. “Hmm? He asks, not sure he heard quite right.

A warm hand lands on his knee. “I said, ‘a different kind of meat.’ Do you happen to know where I could get some?” 

Chanyeol chances a glance towards Jongin and sees as his body is turned almost entirely facing towards him. He feels the sweat at the base of his neck chill. _Remain calm_ , Chanyeol tells himself, _he’s just messing with you_.

Jongin’s hand on Chanyeol’s knee scoots up higher, and he squeezes the meaty flesh of Chanyeol’s thigh.

“P-Pizza it is!” Chanyeol shouts out, voice cracking. “I saw a place near our hotel!” His voice sounds too loud even for the car ride between them.

“I could go for pizza,” Jongin says, voice soft. Chanyeol watches out of the corner of his eye as Jongin turns his body to face the windshield. His hand moves away from Chanyeol’s thigh just as quickly as it was there, but the warmth remains.

***

Chanyeol lets the warmth of the water relax the tension of the day out of his body. Jongin had given him a definite run for his money over the last couple of days, and they hadn’t even gotten to the main event, the fashion week appearance, yet. As Chanyeol shampoos up his hair, he can’t help but think about the line of Jongin’s body as he held himself off the floor, the arch of his back as he kept his position, and the way his legs stretched so far above his head it was like his toes could almost touch the ground.

Chanyeol feels his cock twitch between his legs, and he tries in vain to think of _anything_ else. The noise in the restaurant they ate in, the dusty smell of the street, the way he burned his tongue eating pizza. 

But it all feels in vain, because thoughts of the dinner remind him of how Jongin looked under the yellow lamps of the restaurant, remind him of the sparkle in his eye, the strong set of Jongin’s jaw as he ate, or worse—

The way he licked the tomato sauce of the corner of his lips every time instead of wiping it away with a napkin. Chanyeol groans, and throws his head back against the wall, frustrated. He hasn’t jerked off in days, not since the night before they left Korea, and every night since then he’s spent in close company to none other than the star of all his fantasies. It feels so wrong to jerk off next to someone, especially when said someone is the person you think of to come. 

Suffice to say, Chanyeol’s had a rough few days. He tries to turn his thoughts to the last porno he watched, a solo masturbation video he found browsing his favorite camboy site. The guy’s soft, supple body brings back good memories, as does thinking about the fringe of his brown hair and the curve of his mouth. Chanyeol can get off to that man instead tonight. 

He grips his cock in his hand, already half hard, thinking about the camboy’s soft tummy. He remembers him pinching the flesh at his hip, as he rocked into his hand and back against the dildo he fucked himself with. Chanyeol’s hand starts to move along his cock, his body turned away from the spray of the water. He prays that the sound of the shower is enough to drown out any moans that might escape his mouth. He spits into the palm of his hand as he starts moving it up and down his cock quickly. He’s been so wound up the last few days, just one good orgasm should be enough to get him through the rest of this trip. 

He thinks about the camboy again, about the arch of his back, about how his pretty pink mouth opened in an ‘ _o_ ’—

 _Just like he’s having an orgasm,_ Chanyeol’s brain supplies, but suddenly the image is not of his camboy, but of _Jongin,_ splayed out on the floor of the photoshoot, legs opened wide, knee pulled close to his chest, mouth open wide. 

“Fuck,” Chanyeol pants, trying so hard to go back to the camboy. He tries to remember his soft tummy, his thick thighs, his wide hips—

But all he can think about is how good Jongin looked on the ground, body bent almost completely in half, face open and mouth smirking at Chanyeol. He can almost hear Jongin’s voice in his head saying _Watch closely. I think you’ll like this._ His hand moves faster across his dick, breath coming out in pants against the glass wall. Chanyeol feels his stomach clenching, hips jerking forward as he chases his pleasure. He imagines Jongin, splayed out the same way on his bed, under him. Chanyeol would be between his legs, fucking him open, holding Jongin’s legs so far back his knees would touch the bedsheets. Jongin’s eyes would be closed in ecstasy as Chanyeol fucked into him, mouth letting out little moans as he begged and begged Chanyeol to go faster. “Fuck,” Chanyeol moans, and bites his arm when he gets loud. He’s so afraid Jongin might hear him, but the fear doesn’t even deter him. In fact, Chanyeol feels his skin get hotter, the idea of Jongin hearing him turning him on even more. 

He doesn’t even have a moment to berate himself before his mind conjures up an image of Jongin, nails digging into Chanyeol’s skin so hard he’d leave marks, pushing and bossing Chanyeol around, telling him all he’d want Chanyeol to do to him in bed.

 _Fuck me like you mean it,_ Jongin would grunt out, voice hoarse, _fuck me like I’m the only man in the entire world you want._

“J-Jongin,” Chanyeol groans softly, grateful once again the water was on. His back is now completely against the glass wall of the shower, facing away from the entrance of the bathroom. “J-Jongin,” he moans again, as his hand moves faster and faster across his dick.

Chanyeol runs his thumb over the head of his dick, digging into the slit. He gasps at the feeling, twisting his wrist on the upstroke, just right under the head. His hips stutter in the air uncontrollably, thrusting forward against nothing. He can’t stop imagining that it’s Jongin he’s fucking—his body so high strung with the need to come. Chanyeol could take him, right here in the shower, he thinks, his brain is so far gone. He can almost taste the skin of Jongin’s shoulder, right where he’d rest his mouth as he fucked into him. Jongin from that first night comes unbidden into Chanyeol’s mind—his soft face, his messy hair, his bear bathrobe. He thinks about Jongin’s shoulder, his peculiar little smile. Thinks about the way his eyes crinkle into crescents when he laughs, thinks about how full his lips are—how much he wants to _kiss_ him. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Chanyeol gasps out, his stomach tensing on every breath as he comes over himself to the image of Jongin’s head thrown back, lips kiss bitten and red.

Chanyeol pants with exertion, trying to prevent himself from sliding down the shower wall. He tries to catch his breath as the reality of what he’s just done catches up to him. 

He’s jerked off to a man who is no more than a stone’s throw away from him. Chanyeol feels shame coil up in his gut, and that shame is enough to wake him up completely, and push through the drowsiness of his orgasm. He goes back under the spray of water, soaping himself up and washing his body, hoping that Jongin, on the other side of the door, will be none the wiser. 

Chanyeol takes an extra twenty minutes in the shower, just as a precaution. He slowly towel dries his hair in the bathroom mirror, even though he doesn’t need to, and puts his clothes on carefully. He’s hoping, by some miracle, that Jongin will be passed out on his bed by the time he steps out of the shower. 

Of course, nothing ever goes to plan. 

When Chanyeol emerges from the bathroom and makes his way to the couch, he spots Jongin’s quick movement on the bed fixing the pillows near his head. Chanyeol sits on the couch carefully, trying hard not to think about what he just did. 

“Hey,” he says to Jongin, who turns quickly towards him like a deer caught in headlights. He quickly schools his expression into something more neutral, a blanket pulled up to his chest. 

“Hey, yourself,” Jongin replies, giving Chanyeol a small smile. 

“You did great today,” Chanyeol says, hoping his voice comes out even. “You look like a natural during the shoots. I feel like I haven’t had a chance to really say that before.” 

“Th-Thanks, Chanyeol,” Jongin says, over a stutter.

Chanyeol eyes Jongin more closely, and sees his hair matted to his forehead, as well as the flush that’s apparent across his face. 

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, concerned. “You’re sweating. Is the room too hot?” He moves to get up but Jongin is quick to wave him off. 

“No, no, I’m fine,” Jongin answers fast, “it was a little hot earlier. I already opened a window to cool down.” He points towards the big window near the drapes, and Chanyeol sees it slightly ajar. 

“You can open it more if it’s still too warm in here for you, Jongin,” Chanyeol says as he settles onto the couch. “I don’t mind the cold.”

“I’ll… I’ll remember that…” Jongin says, but his mind looks like it’s elsewhere. Chanyeol still has half a mind to go over to Jongin and see if he maybe really _is_ running a fever. His cheeks look flushed, his hair is stuck to his face with sweat, and he seems to be breathing just a little harsher than usual. 

“Goodnight,” Jongin says, before turning off the lamp and casting their room in darkness. Chanyeol assumes Jongin will fall asleep shortly after, but after a couple of minutes of browsing on his phone, he sees Jongin’s silhouette from the moonlight filtering in through the open window. 

“Everything okay?” Chanyeol asks. He can’t help but be curious. Jongin’s been a little flustered and skittish ever since Chanyeol got out of the shower. 

“Y-Yeah,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol watches him pull what looks like pajamas together. “I’m just gonna shower.” 

“Oh, okay,” Chanyeol agrees. He watches Jongin fumble around in the darkness for his clothes before he says, “why didn’t you just leave the light on?”

That seems to make Jongin jump just a little bit out of fright. “No… no reason,” he says, voice slightly unsure. 

“You can just turn it on, I don’t mind.”

“No!” Jongin’s voice comes out too loud, and Chanyeol watches the outline of his hand go up and cover his mouth. 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, curious about Jongin’s behavior. “No pressure.”

“I’m…” his voice trails off. “Haha, sorry, maybe I am a little tired.”

“A good shower will help relax you.” Chanyeol says offhandedly. 

“I bet it will,” Jongin replies automatically, and Chanyeol nearly drops his phone. He’s grateful actually, that Jongin turned the light off. There’s no way he could know what Chanyeol was doing in the shower earlier. There’s… there’s _no way_ he heard what Chanyeol was moaning. 

Right?

“Goodnight, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, suddenly anxious. There’s no way. No way. Maybe the exhaustion of the day has finally settled in on him. Maybe Chanyeol’s horny brain is making leaps when there’s nothing there. 

“Goodnight,” Jongin replies, and Chanyeol’s eyes track his movement all the way to the bathroom, before he shuts the door behind him. 

***

“A total day off,” Jongin says, star-fished on the bed the next day. Junmyeon hovers over him with a bag of _cornettos_ while Chanyeol sits up on the couch, trying to fix the crick in his neck. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon repeats, waving the bag of Italian croissants in front of Jongin’s face. “A total day off.”

“I’m going to sleep longer,” Jongin whines, and Chanyeol smiles to himself, at how petulant Jongin can be with his manager. Sometimes, Chanyeol wonders if that’s the usual manager-model relationship, or if Jongin is once again just _special_.

Chanyeol sips on the coffee Junmyeon brought for him, as always, while he scrolls through his phone. There’s just a few messages from Jongdae asking how the trip is going, a couple messages from his mother asking him to get her souvenirs. He replies to all of them, with the promise to his mother that yes, indeed, he is having fun and staying safe.

“Chanyeol,” Junmyeon says, and he clicks his phone off to look up at him.

“Yes?” He watches the way Junmyeon and Jongin seem to have a conversation with just their eyes. Junmyeon raises his left eyebrow, in what looks like judgment, while Jongin juts out his bottom lip in an honest to God _pout_. 

_Oh no,_ Chanyeol’s heart thumps in his chest, _his pout is so cute_ … 

“Gah,” Junmyeon exasperates, dropping the bag of food on Jongin’s bed as he throws his hands in the air. “Fine, you win.”

“Thanks, hyung,” Jongin singsongs, before picking the bag up and munching into the food. 

Junmyeon turns back towards Chanyeol. “So,” he says, “another change of plans.” 

“Okay, shoot,” Chanyeol replies, taking a sip from his coffee. It helps to keep him warm as the chill breeze from outside comes in through the open window. 

“I won’t be able to join you guys today, I have, uh, to meet up with the photography team for tomorrow’s shoot. It involves Jongin posing with a stand-in, so we’re gonna run over who we can have to stand in that’ll fit the bill.” 

“I can watch him,” Chanyeol says, “that isn’t a problem.”

“I know this isn’t going exactly how we planned—“

Chanyeol waves him off. His eyes cut over to Jongin, if only for a brief moment, and watches the way he is totally engrossed in his _cornetto_. There will definitely be crumbs on his bed later, Chanyeol thinks, watching how Jongin’s cheeks fill out like a chipmunk as he eats his food. He looks back towards Junmyeon. “Jongin and I will find something to do today,” he says, “I was thinking about visiting the Cathedral tonight, so we’ll definitely go there.” 

“Oh,” Jongin says, looking up at Chanyeol, “I want some photos in front of there. Hyung, are you _sure_ you can’t make it?” He turns towards Junmyeon, bottom lip out, but Chanyeol doesn’t miss the _mischief_ in Jongin’s eyes. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon says, sounding like he’s lost some battle, “I simply can’t.”

“It’s okay,” Jongin replies, patting Junmyeon’s leg. It’s almost like that was the exact answer he wanted. “I have Chanyeol to take care of me.”

“I can take your pictures,” Chanyeol kind of blurts out, still at a loss for the words Jongin just let out of his mouth. _I have Chanyeol to take care of me._ Yeah. Yeah, he does. 

“Really?” Jongin says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and definitely getting more crumbs all over the bed. 

“Yes, I’m—well, I do amateur photography back home in my free time.” 

“Perfect,” Jongin says, smiling wide. He does not stop staring at Chanyeol, which makes him feel a little hot under the collar.

Chanyeol gulps, eyes cutting to Junmyeon. “We’ll be fine,” he says. 

Junmyeon sighs. “I hope for your sake,” he says, “that you’re absolutely right.” Junmyeon makes his way from the side of Jongin’s bed to the couch, standing just to the left of Chanyeol. “Don’t lose him, okay? His appearance is in 2 days.” 

“He’ll be right under me,” Chanyeol says, and the look of horror on Junmyeon’s face is enough for him to realize just how bad those words sound out loud. 

“Err,” Chanyeol corrects, face beet red, “he’s under me as in, uh, right under my watchful eyes.” 

“Right,” Junmyeon says, nodding his head. The movements are jerky as he bites his bottom lip, and Chanyeol realizes at once that Junmyeon is trying his hardest not to laugh. “Of course.”

“Um…” Chanyeol says intelligently, voice drifting off. 

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow morning, then, last photoshoot.” He squeezes Chanyeol’s arm in farewell, before taking his leave. 

Chanyeol focuses on Jongin, who’s still eating through the bag of _cornettos_. “I saved you one,” Jongin says, proffering the food towards Chanyeol. “Come here and get it,” he giggles. A small smile graces his face at the sound as he gets up to get the food from Jongin. Chanyeol looks at his own reflection on the mirror next to the bed, as he eats the food Jongin saved for him. 

“I really like your laugh,” Chanyeol’s mouth moves before his brain can stop him, and suddenly Jongin’s gaze is trained on his face. “It’s a nice sound,” he says, because he might as well be honest under scrutiny. 

“Yeah?” Jongin asks, voice soft.

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, eating the last of his _cornetto_ , Nutella filling getting on his fingertips. 

“What else do you like about my laugh?” Jongin asks abruptly. Chanyeol feels like he’s under a microscope. He gazes at his own reflection, wiping his hands on his napkin. 

How do you tell your celebrity crush all the things you like about them without sounding insane? Chanyeol swallows, his throat feeling a little dry. 

“I just like the sound,” he says lamely, and coughs into his hand. “It’s a very… nice sound.”

“Okay,” Jongin smirks, “what about it?”

Chanyeol looks back at Jongin, feeling like he’s being teased, but Jongin’s gaze is serious. 

“Yesterday,” he begins, “when you… the interview with Irene. Your eyes make crescents when you laugh really genuinely,” he admits, “I thought that was a really, um—it’s really nice to see you—or just someone?—so happy.” Chanyeol stutters through his explanation, carefully avoiding Jongin’s gaze. 

“Hmm,” Jongin says, “no one’s ever said that before… ‘crescents…’” his voice trails off.

Chanyeol scratches the back of his neck, feeling rather lame. He thinks about how _cute_ Jongin laughs, how his hands turn into little fists, or how his feet tapped against the floor at a particularly good joke from Irene. Chanyeol wants to just tell Jongin, _I think you’re the most beautiful man in the world._

But he won’t. 

Not when he’s hovering near Jongin’s bed while the man in question is still dressed in his pajamas, and certainly, _certainly_ , not when Jongin is _paying_ him to be his bodyguard. 

Well, Junmyeon is, but the technicality is still there. 

“I like it,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol’s brought out of his head.

“Hmm?”

“‘Crescents’ for my eyes, I like that comparison a lot,” Jongin says. He looks totally serious at Chanyeol before hitting him on the knee, and breaking out into raucous laughter. 

“You’re so easy to tease, Chanyeol,” Jongin admits through laughs, “you don’t have to be scared of me. I promise I don’t bite.” 

“Not scared of you,” Chanyeol huffs, watching Jongin’s face. His laugh is so loud and so funny Chanyeol can’t help but join in himself. “You couldn’t hurt a fly.” 

Jongin scoffs, but his answering smile shows his dimpled cheek. Chanyeol feels like for some reason, he’s just gone through a test. For what, he has no idea, but he gets to see Jongin’s true laughter, up close and with no cameras around, and that right there is better than any gift he could receive. 

***

The rest of the day passes by in a flurry of tourist activities, but the biggest thing they spend the day doing is _clothes_ shopping. Chanyeol finds himself tugged around _Quadrilatero della moda_ , Milan’s most famous shopping district. As he and Jongin walk up and down the streets lined with stores from high end boutiques, famous brands, or various upscale buys, Chanyeol can’t help but feel just a little overwhelmed. Jongin tugs him into every store where something catches his eye, and more often than not, the person behind the counter _recognizes_ him. 

It’s a sight to see, Chanyeol thinks, how Jongin will grip his arm and talk his ear off about the various fashion brands that line the street—mouth moving a mile a minute, while they pass by marquees and stands that have his face plastered all over them—and then change to the sultry, silent confident _Kai_ , face of an international global brand, when they step into the stores. 

Chanyeol finds the ease with which Jongin controls himself to be fascinating to witness firsthand. How he can go from pinching Chanyeol’s side when Chanyeol doesn’t walk fast enough to keep up with him on the streets, to exuding the sensuality that got him _famous._

Jongin is a chameleon. He is one of a _kind._ And if the last five days or so has taught Chanyeol anything, it is that Jongin is a force to be reckoned with, both in front of the camera and off. 

Jongin smiles at the lady behind the counter in the district’s _Gucci_ store, as he quickly signs an autograph for her. Jongin’s face is animated but controlled, and Chanyeol watches the way he gives her a smile. 

It’s not the same one he gives Chanyeol, though, and that fills his chest with something he refuses to think about. Jongin walks over towards him, where he’s waiting right by the entrance of the store, and it’s like watching the chameleon change colors right before him. Jongin looks at Chanyeol, boyish charm on his face. He hands Chanyeol his bag of purchases—a new purse, several rings, a chain, and shoes—for him to carry. 

That’s the other thing Chanyeol’s day has consisted of: being Jongin’s unofficial bag carrier. His arms are covered up to the elbow in purchases from all the high end stores, and Chanyeol would be annoyed if it was anyone else.

In fact, he rather doesn’t mind being Jongin’s proverbial shopping cart.

“Kinda hungry,” Jongin says, as they make their way down _Corso Vittorio Emanuele II_ street. This one at least, Chanyeol thinks, has some coffee shops and not just aisles and aisles of clothes. They approach one shop that doesn’t look too crowded, and make their way inside, all of Jongin’s bags in tow. Chanyeol puts all the bags down on one side of the booth, prepared to sit next to all of it, before Jongin lightly taps him on the side. 

“It’s too crowded on that side, just sit next to me.”

Chanyeol gives him a confused look before shrugging his shoulders, pushing up next to Jongin in the booth. Today has felt just a little bit weird, over all, but Chanyeol’s not complaining. Jongin himself feels much more open and relaxed around him, and he finds great pride in that feat. It makes his heart flutter, that Jongin trusts him enough to reveal another side of himself. 

When their waitress comes over, Chanyeol orders himself a coffee, and a bunch of the pastries off the menu. He’s about to order Jongin a coffee as well, before he catches the face Jongin makes out of the corner of his eye.

“Not a fan of coffee?”

“No,” Jongin says, nose scrunching up just lightly. He’s never looked cuter, Chanyeol thinks, feeling his heart race. 

Chanyeol turns to the waiter, “And just some juice, please,” he says. The waiter nods and leaves the table, leaving the two of them alone in silence. It feels slightly awkward now, since there’s no hoisting of shopping bags or assistants or deep seated nighttime exhaustion to distract Chanyeol from the fact that he’s spent the entire day with Jongin—and will continue to spend the day with him. It makes his heart race in the worst of ways, makes his mind fill with images that bounce around inside his skull, cracking him open. 

Because it’s one thing to fantasize about Jongin as a model, as _Kai._ But it’s another thing completely to daydream about holding his hand and walking down the beach towards the sunset, fingers locked tightly together. 

It’s another thing completely to want more from this professional relationship than Jongin could ever give him.

“I had fun,” Chanyeol says, unable to stop himself. The silence makes him nervous, and he feels a bead of sweat against his spine, despite the chill air, “today was really great so far.” And he says this with as much honesty as he can imbue in his voice. Today’s been one of the best days of Chanyeol’s life.

“Yeah?” Jongin asks, his hand squeezing Chanyeol’s thigh under the table, a warm pressure that Chanyeol can feel even through his thick jeans.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies. The waiter comes back with Jongin’s juice, Chanyeol’s coffee, and a small cup of water, dropping it on the table. Chanyeol resumes once the waiter is out of earshot, “It’s nice, you know? Spending the day doing fun things.” _It’s nice,_ Chanyeol wants to say, _seeing a different side of you. Seeing you excited. Seeing you happy_ . “It’s just been… a rewarding experience… here in Milan,” he adds lamely. _Here with you_. 

“Is that so?” Jongin’s hand squeezes his thigh again, and Chanyeol nods. 

“I’m having a lot of fun too,” Jongin says, voice sincere and face open. He reaches for one of the pastries the waiter dropped off on their table, taking a huge bite. He smiles at Chanyeol wide, showing all of his pearly white teeth. “It’s been awhile since I’ve just gotten to explore like this,” Jongin gestures with his hands as he continues eating. “And besides,” he says, “you’re really fun to be around, Chanyeol.” 

“So are you, Jongin.” The brutal honesty seems to catch Jongin off guard for a moment, because a look of shock crosses his face. It’s almost like he didn’t expect Chanyeol to genuinely enjoy his company. Chanyeol feels a brief sense of hurt at that, and a flare of anger at whoever’s made Jongin feel like he was never enough to waste a day with. Jongin is _so_ much fun to hang out with—Chanyeol wants to do it again, if allowed too, because Chanyeol would choose being Jongin’s personal shopping bag if it meant he got to stand by his side a little while longer. 

The look of shock is gone just as quickly off of Jongin’s face as it was present. He offers Chanyeol another slight smile, just the curve of his lip, but Chanyeol feels like he’s unlocked another piece of the puzzle. 

“I’m excited to take those pictures of you tonight outside the Cathedral,” Chanyeol says, feeling bold, “I think they’ll turn out well.”

“We’ll have to take a bunch,” Jongin replies, sipping on his juice. “I’m picky with my angles, and I know a few will look ugly.” 

“I don’t think you have the capacity to look ugly,” Chanyeol feels Jongin stiffen at his side, and looks up from his own food to face him. 

“Huh,” Jongin says, at a loss for words. 

Chanyeol feels nervousness creep up on him. Did he offend Jongin with his remark? Dread pools in his gut. 

“So what would you say I have then?” Jongin inquires, and he puts his food down on the plate to look at Chanyeol. 

“What do you mean?” Chanyeol asks, and his hands fidget under the table. He’s just grateful that Jongin hasn’t run out of the cafe upset.

“If you were going to compliment me, what would you say?” 

Chanyeol lets out a laugh, “Is this a test?” He asks, relieved. “Or are you just fishing?”

Jongin rolls his eyes, letting out a whine, “I’m serious! If you could compliment Kai, what words are you gonna say? ‘Sexy?’ ‘Sultry?’ ‘Jaw-droppingly handsome?’ Come on, Chanyeol,” his voice is high pitched and Chanyeol _knows_ Jongin wants an answer so bad. “Just entertain me.” 

“Fine, fine, okay,” Chanyeol relents, because he obviously cannot tell this man no. 

Chanyeol takes a deep breath. He can easily tell Jongin he thinks he’s sexy. That he thinks he’s handsome. That he thinks he’s sultry. He can tell Jongin absolutely everything and anything he has probably heard a hundred times before, but something in Chanyeol’s gut tells him to be honest. And no matter how much it might embarrass him later… he can at least _pride_ himself on this honesty. 

He exhales, and looks up at Jongin’s eyes. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful men in the entire world,” Chanyeol admits. “‘Sexy, sultry, handsome?’ Sure, of course. But I really think you’re beautiful…” Chanyeol’s voice trails off, and he looks somewhere else, afraid of Jongin’s reply. 

Jongin clears his throat, and his intake of breath is so loud in the cafe. “Do you… do you mean that?” He asks, and his voice is so soft, Chanyeol thinks he would’ve missed it had they not been sitting so close together. 

“Of course I do,” Chanyeol replies. _I’m in awe of you,_ he wants to say, _you’re so beautiful to me._

“Thank you,” Jongin replies after a minute of silence, and Chanyeol would feel so awkward if not for the smile gracing Jongin’s mouth. “Really, Chanyeol, thank you. I don’t hear that often,” Jongin grabs the back of his neck in a nervous gesture, and Chanyeol spots the flush high on his cheeks. 

Jongin’s _blushing_. 

Chanyeol feels a sense of triumph in his gut, as a smile overtakes his face. “Don’t let it get to your head,” he tentatively jokes, and Jongin’s exasperated chuckle is enough to set him at ease.

They spend the rest of the lunch eating through their pastries slowly, talking about anything that comes to mind. Chanyeol finds more and more he loves Jongin’s company, and what comes with that is the unwillingness to let him go. 

But that’s alright, Chanyeol decides, because for now he can have Jongin all to himself. And regardless of the chill weather that envelopes them in a hug, the warmth Chanyeol feels inside his body is enough to fuel him through the rest of their day, as he continues to lug their bags around, following Jongin wherever he goes.

***

“What do you do for fun?” Jongin asks the night before his day at fashion week.

Chanyeol’s outstretched on the couch, legs hanging off the side as it’s just this side of too short to be totally comfortable for his body. The last couple of days have been insane, and even if tomorrow is the day he’s really been hired for, Chanyeol feels his spirit sadden a little, at the prospect of no longer having Jongin to himself. It feels weird—makes him feel shameful, but the last couple of days of just him and Jongin—especially their shopping adventures—of them joking and laughing, of Chanyeol watching Jongin so intently, of Chanyeol feeling like he was starting to understand the man in front of him, has given him more joy than he is ready to admit.

And tomorrow, is a reality check. A real reminder of why he is here.

Kim Jongin is to be shared with everybody, Chanyeol thinks, _Kai is for everyone. Not just for me._

“I play guitar in my free time,” Chanyeol says out loud, “I’m really into music.”

“Guitar, huh?” Jongin says from the bed. Chanyeol can hear the movement of the bed sheets rustling. He yawns absentmindedly from where he’s laying on the couch.

“Yes.”

“So you’re good with your hands then?”

“Ye—what?” Chanyeol’s brain halts all at once. He nearly drops his phone on his face.

“You heard me,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol looks up to see him sitting up on his bed, against the headboard. 

“Um…” Chanyeol replies, shocked, “I am good with playing the guitar.”

“You said that already,” Jongin asks, and his voice is _whiny_. “I’m asking if you’re good with your hands.”

Chanyeol doesn’t know what to say. 

“Jongin,” he says slowly, because Chanyeol thinks he’s on the verge of losing his sanity. There’s no—Jongin’s gotta be fucking with him. This is just cruel. After all the pictorials he sat in, all the photoshoots he stood in for—the countless poses, outfit changes, and fucking body rolls—not to mention being _cornered_ at the coffee shop—

This man cannot be serious. 

Chanyeol gets up into a sitting position on the couch and faces Jongin on the bed, feeling a little bit pissed.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at,” Chanyeol says slowly, and Jongin turns the lamp on to illuminate his face. He is still _so_ beautiful and Chanyeol wants to scream.

“I just asked if you were good with your hands,” Jongin says nonchalantly, shrugging.

“You know exactly how much of a come-on that sounds like,” Chanyeol presses, squeezing his own knee. The agony of his reality settles into his bones. The facade, the game, the fun. For his own sanity he can’t keep pretending it doesn’t affect him anymore. 

“Stop messing with me. It’s unprofessional,” Chanyeol snaps. He breaks eye contact with Jongin and looks out the window. Huffing a sigh. It’s fun when it’s in public, because Chanyeol knows Jongin has just gotta be joking. That Jongin’s just enjoying seeing his bodyguard all riled up—that he gets some kind of kick out of making him flustered.

But in the privacy of their hotel room, the joke stops _here_. There’s no cameras, no assistants, and no clothing around to pretend that Jongin’s doing anything but making fun of him. Maybe, maybe Jongin found out that Chanyeol was a fan? Maybe Jongin’s trying to get Chanyeol to admit to getting off thinking about him?

Maybe Jongin’s trying to humiliate him?

For whatever it is, Chanyeol feels a sense of dread flood his body. Jongin probably flirts with all his bodyguards this way. Jongin can have any man in the world at his feet. And just doing this to Chanyeol feels _cruel_.

“Hey,” Jongin says, and his voice is too close for comfort. He’s now blocking Chanyeol’s line of sight out of the window. Chanyeol traces a line up Jongin’s body, from his navel all the way to his face. His bear themed sleep robe is pulled tightly across his body. 

“Yeah?” Chanyeol asks, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He feels bad for snapping at Jongin, but this week has filled him with fantasies and memories he doesn’t think he will ever be able to erase. Their day spent shopping felt like a _date_ . Jongin holding his hand outside the Cathedral felt like a _date_ . And Jongin resting his hand on Chanyeol’s leg, in the long tiring car ride home, felt like a _date_.

Chanyeol thinks he just needs to go home already, and put this all behind him. That is until— 

“I’m being serious,” Jongin blurts out and Chanyeol sees the flush coloring his cheeks. 

“About what?” Chanyeol asks, still on guard. 

“Flirting with you,” Jongin admits, and it looks like it pains him to do so. “Wanting you,” he adds shyly. He reaches out a hand and squeezes Chanyeol’s bicep. “Please tell me I haven’t been reading this wrong,” Jongin asks, “because if I have I am going to be so embarrassed.”

A pause, as they hold each other's gazes intently.

“You’re not wrong,” Chanyeol relents, around a very shaky breath. “You’re not wrong at all.”

“So why—”

“I’m your bodyguard. It’s-it’s—”

“But I want you too,” Jongin says, coming around the couch and getting down between Chanyeol’s spread legs. “I… I _want_ too,” Chanyeol can feel Jongin’s hot breath against his thighs.

“Ugh,” Chanyeol says, “you’re such a tease, you know? The photoshoots, asking me to compliment you in public…”

Jongin chuckles, looking up at Chanyeol’s face. “The best,” he says, touching Chanyeol’s chest. 

“Are you—are you sure?” 

“I am,” Jongin says, his voice that telltale whine. “Chanyeol, _please_ don’t make me beg.”

Chanyeol grips him by the back of his head, fingers threading through Jongin’s hair, palm against his scalp. He tugs Jongin’s hair lightly. He feels uninhibited, with Jongin between his legs like this. “What if I wanted you too?" Chanyeol hums, tugging Jongin's hair lightly, "As payback for all the times you’ve teased me, hmm?”

“Chan—“

“How badly do you want it?” Chanyeol asks, a smile on his face. It feels good, to see Jongin flustered for a change, to see Jongin on his knees between his legs. Eyes not alight with mischief but with desire. The change up feels good, Chanyeol thinks, as another layer of Jongin is peeled back right before him. Needy. Whiny. And so terribly _demanding_.

More and more, Chanyeol thinks, he feels special for getting to see every part of the man before him. 

Jongin reaches up and grabs Chanyeol’s jaw with his hand, squeezes tight. “Come on,” he goads, “don’t you wanna find out?” Jongin pinches Chanyeol’s nipple in retaliation and it’s enough to make his grip loosen against the back of Jongin's head. Jongin lets out a loud laugh and jumps onto the bed, pajamas decorating the floor. 

“Come closer,” Jongin says, and calls Chanyeol over with his hand. “I want you to touch me.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t hold back his eye roll this time. He looks at the picture Jongin makes on the beg, gazed hooded and hungry, body open, legs spread wide. His mouth is dry at the sight. He can do this. He is _going_ to do this.

“Okay, Your Majesty.” Chanyeol replies. He takes his clothes off and feels Jongin’s hungry gaze on him, before he’s yanked down by the arm onto the bed. He falls unceremoniously on top of Jongin, catching his body at the last minute to hover over him. 

“What do you want?” Chanyeol asks again, voice soft. His arms are on either side of Jongin’s face, their thighs slotted together on the bed. “Tell me what you want and I’ll do it for you.” 

“Ugh,” Jongin groans, “you’re so hot.” He gets his hands on Chanyeol’s shoulders, pulling him down so close their mouths can share a breath. "Your tattoos are so hot."

“You’re hot, too,” Chanyeol says.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Chanyeol chuckles against his mouth.

“I want you to suck me,” Jongin commands, “let me fuck your mouth.” _Demanding_. He presses his lips against Chanyeol’s and they share a deep, sensual kiss. Chanyeol bites Jongin’s bottom lip, and he gasps into Chanyeol’s mouth. 

Chanyeol pushes his tongue inside, curling it up against the roof of Jongin’s mouth, watching him squirm on the bed. He sucks Jongin’s tongue, lewdly, and the high pitched whine Jongin makes in the back of his throat is worth it. 

Jongin starts manhandling him again, and Chanyeol won’t deny how much it turns him on. Jongin is tinier than him, all lean, toned, skinny body compared to Chanyeol’s muscle mass, and yet he pushes Chanyeol around to get him how he wants. Chanyeol shivers, cock filling between his legs. He won’t ever tell Jongin how much he enjoys it.

He moves down the bed, situating himself between Jongin’s spread thighs. Jongin is fully naked, his hard cock is red at the tip, and curving towards his taut belly. Chanyeol can see the planes of Jongin’s body from this angle, and reaches one of his hands up to tweak Jongin’s nipple. He moans at the sensation, before batting Chanyeol’s hand away.

Chanyeol laughs at Jongin’s antics before he presses a kiss to Jongin’s inner thigh, right next to his dick, and inhales deeply. Jongin smells like fresh linen and lavender body soap. His skin is so soft and supple to the touch. Chanyeol licks up Jongin’s thigh, feeling him tremble beneath him. 

“Hurry up and s-suck my cock,” Jongin demands, his voice coming out like a whine. He huffs in impatience above Chanyeol, which just makes him laugh again. He’s yet to deny Jongin anything this entire trip, and he isn’t about to start now. 

Chanyeol takes the head of Jongin’s cock into his mouth, and lets his spit drip down the shaft. He sucks up and down Jongin’s dick, creating a comfortable rhythm for himself, as he starts relaxing his jaw so Jongin can fuck his mouth. He adds more spit onto Jongin’s dick, feeling him shake beneath him, letting out the most beautiful glorious whines Chanyeol’s ever heard. 

Chanyeol sucks hard, once, on the head of Jongin’s dick. 

“Fuck!” Jongin shouts, and Chanyeol looks up at him from under hooded eyes. 

“I do not have a gag reflex,” Chanyeol says, and he watches the way Jongin’s expression goes from shock to pure lust. “So fuck my mouth, Jongin. Do as you please.” 

Chanyeol situates his mouth over the head of Jongin’s cock, before swallowing Jongin down at once. His arms are braced on the bed, off of Jongin’s hips, so that way Jongin has free reign of movement. 

Jongin starts fucking up into Chanyeol’s mouth slowly, each thrust accompanied by a gasp or a moan. Soon enough, when Jongin realizes that Chanyeol wasn’t joking, his pace starts to quicken. Jongin kicks Chanyeol back off the side of the bed, and he falls onto his knees, breathing hard. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Jongin says, and his silhouette is bathed in the lamplight and the moonlight shining through the window. Chanyeol can see the way Jongin’s abdomen tenses with every breath, as he gets off the bed and stands in front of Chanyeol’s form. 

“What are you waiting for?” Chanyeol taunts, smile on his face. “Fuck my mouth.”

Jongin grins.

He cups the back of Chanyeol’s head, pushing his cock back inside Chanyeol’s mouth, hitting the back of his throat. Chanyeol braces his hands on Jongin’s hips, closing his eyes. He can hear Jongin’s whimpers and moans of pleasure, and feel the slick glide of Jongin’s cock as he fucks in and out of his throat. Chanyeol can only wish right now that he could see Jongin’s expressions of pleasure. 

“You’re a f-fucking dream,” Jongin gasps out, fucking his hips into Chanyeol's throat, “your throat feels so good around my dick what the fuck, Chanyeol? You’re so fucking hot, so-so fucking hot letting me fuck your mouth like this, oh, oh _god_ ,” his voice is brittle and high pitched, turning into a whine as he continues to fuck Chanyeol’s throat. 

Chanyeol can feel the spit dripping out of his mouth and falling down his chin, and can feel the tears rolling down his face as Jongin’s thrusts get more and more erratic the closer he gets to coming. Chanyeol feels his face burning, he hasn’t deep throated dick in so long, but Jongin’s whines and moans make the pain of breathing through his nose and on every other thrust worth it. He feels drunk with pleasure, he feels insane at the way Jongin fucks into his mouth like a starving man, like someone given permission to do _whatever_ they wants. He tightens his grip on Jongin’s hips, bracing himself even more as Jongin’s pace seems to falter. Chanyeol pushes Jongin’s hips down, getting him from standing in front of him to sitting on the edge of the bed. He rearranges himself better in between Jongin’s legs and holds him tightly in place in front of him, preventing his movement.

“H-Hey,” Jongin’s broken moan sounds out above him, before Chanyeol starts expertly _swallowing_ around Jongin’s dick, and that moan turns into a scream. Jongin has no place to go as Chanyeol keeps humming around his dick, throat flexing around Jongin’s cock. 

“Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol,” Jongin whines, trying in vain to fuck his hips up into Chanyeol’s mouth. 

“Chanyeol,” he gasps, “ _Chanyeol_!” Jongin’s squirming slows down on a particularly good suck as he comes hotly down Chanyeol’s throat. Chanyeol swallows absolutely everything Jongin gives him. 

He pulls back, sitting on his hind legs, looking at the debauched picture Jongin makes before him. His hair is sticking to his forehead, as sweat drips down his face. Jongin looks as fucked out as Chanyeol feels.

“Good, right?” Chanyeol says into the silence, and his voice is absolutely _wrecked._

“B-Better than,” Jongin moans, before his eyes cast down Chanyeol’s body, drinking him in. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says, eyes honed in on Chanyeol’s torso. Chanyeol would be embarrassed if it wasn’t for how much Jongin’s staring keeps turning him on. He gets back up onto the bed, as Jongin scrambles backwards, head hitting the pillows. 

“Oh,” Jongin says, and his eyes are trained between Chanyeol’s legs, where his hard dick is still on display. Chanyeol hovers near Jongin, trying to regulate his breathing. “You didn’t come.”

Chanyeol wants to wave him off, to say he can go and jerk off in the shower, but Jongin tosses a bottle at him from under his pillow, with a _look_ on his face. 

“It’s lube,” Jongin says, before Chanyeol can ask. He quirks up an eyebrow at him. “We can’t… I can’t limp at the show tomorrow,” Jongin continues, blushing, “and if you fuck me with _that_ I am going to be sore and uncomfortable all day.” 

Chanyeol snorts, picking up the bottle of lube. “I can just jerk off,” he tries to be nonchalant. 

“I want you to fuck me so _badly,_ ” Jongin whines, and Chanyeol notices that his eyes haven’t left Chanyeol's dick once. “You let me fuck your mouth,” he adds, “please that was so _hot_.”

“Stop staring,” Chanyeol scolds, but Jongin lets out a maniacal laugh. He pushes up close into Chanyeol’s personal space, wrapping his hands around Chanyeol’s dick. “Mmm, feels so good in my hands,” Jongin moans, resting his face against Chanyeol’s shoulder, “would feel even better inside me.” 

“You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you,” Chanyeol gasps out, pushing Jongin onto his back again. Chanyeol holds the lube in his hands, before an idea comes to his mind. 

“I know I can’t fuck you with my dick, but can I finger you? And maybe… fuck your thighs after?” 

Jongin gapes at him. “Both?” 

“Yeah.”

“Why fingering, you won’t—that’s just something would make me feel good.” 

Chanyeol chuckles, looking at Jongin. He feels bold in this moment, feels strong. “You have no idea what makes me feel good,” he says, “but seeing you squirm is definitely on the top of that list.”

“Fuck, fuck,” Jongin whines, and starts stacking pillows so he can rest his hips on them. “Fucking hell, Chanyeol, please finger me. I bet I can come again.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Chanyeol says, as he spreads Jongin’s legs apart, and pushes a finger inside him. 

Jongin feels a lot more loose than Chanyeol was expecting, so he says, “You do this earlier, huh?” He pushes two fingers inside him, and starts scissoring him open. Jongin’s body trembles beneath him, and Chanyeol feels his cock harden even more. 

“Answer me,” Chanyeol says, curling his fingers up and grazing Jongin’s prostate.

“Fuck! Fuck, yes, okay? I fingered myself earlier. Now please, don’t stop.” He begs, and starts rocking his hips back against Chanyeol’s hand. 

Chanyeol keeps fingering Jongin open, as every gasp and intake of breath is music to his ears. Jongin’s thighs keep shaking, and Chanyeol fists Jongin’s cock, already half hard again. He strokes Jongin’s cock a few times to get it to full hardness Jongin whimpers at the sensation. 

“Ah,” he gasps, “still sensitive, please.” He whines, gripping the sheets tighter. 

Chanyeol lets go of Jongin’s cock, giving him a breather. Instead, because he’s an ass, he moves up to three fingers, and starts rubbing Jongin’s prostate nonstop. 

“Ffffffuck,” Jongin groans, drawing it out. “Ah, ah, ah,” he whimpers. He makes these cute little choking sounds on every touch of Chanyeol’s fingers inside of him, the loud squelching sound the only thing Chanyeol can hear in the room aside from their harsh breathing. Chanyeol’s never seen someone so hot and so beautiful. 

“Fuck you’re a dream,” Chanyeol blurts out, pressure against Jongin’s prostate unrelenting, “you’re so hot, fucking yourself down on my fingers, just like you were so hot fucking my mouth. Look at you, look at you, you’re so beautiful like this, spread out for me.”

“For you, for you, for you,” Jongin cries out, and Chanyeol sees the tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “ _Ah,_ for you, for you! What the f-fuck!” Chanyeol keeps pressing against Jongin’s prostate, knowing Jongin is so close, until he watches the way Jongin’s toned abs clench so hard, his stomach going nearly concave, before he shoots his load all over his body, coming untouched. Chanyeol removes his hands and the pillows from under Jongin’s hips, allowing him to relax against the sheets and catch his breath. He touches Jongin’s hip and watches the way he wiggles into Chanyeol’s grounding touch.

“"Your mouth is even _worse_ than mine," Jongin says, and Chanyeol laughs at that. Come on now,” Jongin continues, rolling over onto his stomach. He closes his legs together, squeezing his thighs tightly. Chanyeol grips Jongin’s butt in his hands, spreading his cheeks, and watching the way his hole glistens from all the lube. Chanyeol rubs the pad of his thumb over it once, making Jongin groan. “God, God, next time.”

 _Next time,_ Chanyeol thinks, and feels butterflies fill his stomach. “Next time,” he repeats out loud, putting more lube on his hands and slicking up his cock. He gets some more lube on his hands and puts some on Jongin’s inner thighs, to make the slide even easier.

He grabs Jongin’s hips and situates himself behind him. Chanyeol drinks in the sight of Jongin laid out like this, _presenting_ for him. He commits to memory as many details as he can find—the curve of Jongin’s back muscle, the line of his spine, the moles on his lower back. Chanyeol doesn’t know if he will ever get this opportunity again. 

Jongin said _next time_ , but Chanyeol can never be so sure. 

“Hurry up,” Jongin whines, and his tone makes Chanyeol laugh at his antics. He touches Jongin’s hip gently, a subtle warning, before fucking into the tightness of Jongin’s thighs. Chanyeol picks his pace up quickly, knowing that there is no way he is going to last after how turned on he is from Jongin. 

“Fuck,” Chanyeol says, when Jongin squeezes his thighs tighter, he can just imagine how it would feel to fuck inside Jongin instead, to have his tight heat wrapped around him like a vice grip. Chanyeol puts one of his hands at the back of Jongin’s neck, pushing him down, forcing his back to arch.

“Fuck, fuck, fucking hell,” Jongin groans, and his arms collapse under the weight of Chanyeol’s body bearing down on him. Chanyeol thinks Jongin looks so _fucking_ hot like this.

“I wish you were in-inside me,” Jongin moans out, voice rough, “I can just imagine how good it’d feel, how fu-fucking amazing you’d wreck me.”

“S-Stop talking,” Chanyeol moans around a particularly rough thrust. Jongin squeezes his thighs impossibly tighter, and Chanyeol feels like his eyes are going to roll back in his head. “Your mouth is so fucking dirty.”

“Maybe— _ha_ —you needa… needa shut m-me up,” Jongin cries out, and now he rocks his hips back carefully against Chanyeol’s thrusts, careful to keep his legs closed as tightly as possible.

“I’ll shove my dick down your fucking throat,” Chanyeol says, breathless, “fuck your mouth just like you fucked mine.” He fucks between Jongin’s thighs faster and faster, pace getting erratic as he feels the build up of his orgasm coming closer, coiling tight in his belly. 

“I-I,” Jongin gasps, body going lax underneath Chanyeol’s grip, “I’ll gag on y-your— _fuck—_ on your dick,” he admits, wrecked. Chanyeol can’t believe just thigh fucking has gotten the both of them this far _gone_ . He can’t imagine how it’d be if he was _inside_ Jongin, fucking into his tight body, filling him up with his come instead.

“I’ll train the reflex outta you,” Chanyeol says, feeling delusional. Jongin lets out one of the loudest moans Chanyeol’s ever heard anyone make, and he can almost imagine how hard Jongin would be clenching down on his cock if he was _inside_. Chanyeol picks up his pace even more, egged on by Jongin’s tiny little whimpers, before he feels his orgasm overtake him, and he comes all over the back of Jongin’s thighs. He only has the briefest of moments to watch the way his come drips down the back of Jongin’s thighs before he’s yanked down by the hair, Jongin smashing their lips together.

“You’re seriously so sexy,” Jongin says, in between breaths.

“And you’re beautiful,” Chanyeol replies, watching the wide eyed wonder in Jongin’s eyes.

He laughs into Jongin’s mouth, breathless and wrecked, as they make out for the rest of the night, ripping the dirty bed sheets off the bed, and throwing caution to the wind. 

***

If someone asked Chanyeol how he liked the fashion show, he wouldn’t be able to tell them a single thing, even if he tried. The moment he woke up—beside Jongin no less, and with _Junmyeon_ hovering over them with a very _knowing_ glint in his eye—was enough to kick start his brain into readiness, jumping out of bed to prepare for an entire day of activities. It didn’t even matter, really, that he was shirtless and only in his underwear—they did in fact shower and put on actual clothes after spending an hour swapping spit—because if Chanyeol let himself even think for more than a second about what happened last night he was going to _scream_. 

He fucked Jongin. Oh my god, he fucked Jongin.

 _I fucked Jongin,_ his tiny little peanut brain supplies as he tries to button up his shirt. _I had his dick down my throat,_ he whines internally, as he fumbles with getting ready before they are out the door.

He spent the day, tucked close to Jongin’s side, silent as Jongin smiled for picture after picture, silent as Junmyeon led the way, and silent as Jongin talked and connected with other celebrities, other big names in the fashion industry. Chanyeol felt like he was simultaneously walking on air and walking on a tightrope. Nothing felt different and yet everything in his entire world shifted. He couldn’t look at Jongin without a flush covering his cheeks, couldn’t feel the heat of Jongin’s gaze on him without remembering how it felt to fuck the space between Jongin’s thighs.

And even worse was being here, at the fashion week appearance, watching Jongin so in his element, watching him do the things he was _born_ to do, was made to do, and feeling like he could never compete. What did Chanyeol have to offer Jongin, exactly? He was just a bodyguard. And the more Chanyeol stood by his side, the more he did his duty, the more apparent it felt that Jongin was so completely out of Chanyeol’s reach.

 _You’re just the muscle_ , Chanyeol reminded himself, ducking his head down. Junmyeon had him wear a nice fitting black suit to the event. Chanyeol added the sunglasses on his face himself, less for the aesthetic and more so his eyes wouldn’t give him away. 

He remembers standing by Jongin’s side earlier, ready to protect him, while Junmyeon chatted his ear off. He didn’t speak much to Jongin the entire night, too engrossed in his own thoughts that kept simmering in his mind, the doubt that kept festering no matter how much he tried to tamp it out. Once the fashion show began, Chanyeol watched as Jongin walked from his side, to take his place in a front row seat. He squeezed Chanyeol’s arm for good measure before bidding them farewell and Chanyeol was left to deal with Junmyeon who kept eating the food on trays that happened to pass by. 

“Get some,” Junmyeon said, but Chanyeol didn’t really feel all that hungry.

Chanyeol watched from afar—as the models made their rounds, as the collection was announced, and couldn’t help but feel a stone settle in his gut. _This is enough._ He could see just the top of Jongin’s head poking out from his seat in the front row, his black hair contrasting so nicely against the pink, floral print shirt he chose to wear. Chanyeol can see Jongin’s mouth set in a firm line, his eyes focused as he watches the outfits pass by. Chanyeol can already imagine that Jongin is thinking about what clothes and what pieces will go well together, can already tell that Jongin is building himself new sets of clothes as he eyes track the new line. 

Chanyeol sighs to himself. Who is he kidding? _It has to be enough._ Last night… has to be enough.

Chanyeol turned to Junmyeon and nodded in all the right places, made noises of affirmation as he spoke, and hoped that Junmyeon wouldn’t question him on any of the words coming out of his mouth. Chanyeol didn’t even know what he was saying by that point—words, phrases—any coherent thought escaped his head as he tried and failed to stop looking at Jongin’s figure. 

_He’s Kai. He’s a star._

He’s so far away.

Chanyeol was readying himself to accept the situation for what it was, that it was nothing more than a one time fluke, that maybe Jongin would call it a mistake—that maybe he in fact _did_ sleep with all his bodyguards. A part of Chanyeol knows it’s untrue, that the pure genuine openness in Jongin’s expression the entire night they fucked begs to differ. But Chanyeol can’t help but feel like the suit he’s wearing is too big for his bones, that the atmosphere he’s cloistered in has his skin stretched too tight across his body. He’s so far and beyond his depth of reach, and Jongin fades away out of his view—his vision blinded by the lights of the photography cameras, the snapshots of magazine covers, Gangnam street marquees, and high end, expensive, commercial brands.

What was he ever thinking? 

Chanyeol sighed, mind made up. His heart hurts in his chest, but he thinks Jongin will be just fine. Which is why of course, when Jongin had glanced at Chanyeol on their way out of the venue, had offered him a hand and a brilliant, brilliant smile, Chanyeol merely grunted in response, stealing the front seat of the car before Junmyeon could take it, and leaving Jongin to sit in the back next to his manager for the first time the entire trip, hand still outstretched in front of him.

***

When they entered the hotel room, Jongin went straight for the bathroom. He didn’t say much else aside from several grunts of acknowledgement the entire car ride, while Chanyeol could feel more than see the daggers Junmyeon was _shooting_ into the back of his head. 

At their arrival, the elevator ride was borderline claustrophobic, and Jongin pushed into the room with nothing more of a mutter than, _‘taking a shower.’_

“So what the fuck was that?” Junmyeon’s voice snaps him out of his reverie of the last couple hours, and he loosens his tie before settling back against the couch, right next to Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s head swims with a million different thoughts, and Junmyeon has a look on his face that feels like a warning. 

“What was what?” Chanyeol asks, feigning. He really would just like to go to sleep. To leave all of the terrible feelings of today—of last night—to dreamland.

“You’re gonna be cold to Jongin now? Is that it?” Junmyeon snaps. “You got what you wanted, huh?”

And that—right there—makes Chanyeol turn his body completely to face Junmyeon, to push up into his face, personal space be _damned_.

“You have no _idea_ what I want,” Chanyeol spits out.

“Do you?” Junmyeon fires back, and Chanyeol can see the anger in his eyes—far deeper than that of a concerned _manager_ . It reminds him of the way Jongin’s voice takes on a whiny quality when he demands something from Junmyeon, reminds him of how Jongin’s never called his _manager_ or _Mr. Kim_. Makes Chanyeol realize—

“You really are his _hyung_ , aren’t you?” Chanyeol says, pulling back. He sits back on the couch, still facing Junmyeon, as he fixes the collar of his jacket.

“Yes,” Junmyeon admits, “Jongin is my younger brother. You can’t imagine the shit I’ve had to see him go through, in this line of work, and how I have to stay professional. The amount of men I’ve had to—” Junmyeon runs a hand through hair, cutting himself off, a barely contained grimace crossing his face.

He sighs, and looks at Chanyeol, full on. 

“I thought you were different, because _he_ ,” Junmyeon motions to the bathroom, “thought you were different. If you’re just going to hang him dry after getting a good fuck I suggest you just leave now. I’ll even pay for your ticket home. I don’t want you to hurt him. I don’t want _him_ to be hurt. Again.” 

Chanyeol takes a deep breath through his nose, and looks at Junmyeon. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, nervously. Could it really be that easy? He can barely make eye contact with Junmyeon, anxiety racking his body. It’s now or never, he guesses. But there’s no way Chanyeol would ever let Junmyeon think he doesn’t care about Jongin. He exhales.

“ _Dazed, GQ, Elle—_ all three years, _Esquire, Allure, Lined, Bazaar,_ ” Chanyeol recites, noting them each off on his fingers. “Jongin was the face of _WKorea_ three times, was in the _GQ UK_ magazine twice—has endorsements from Gucci eyewear, _Daisy_ from Marc Jacobs, Balenciaga, Yves Saint Laurent—and I’ve even heard he’s rumored to endorse Audemars Piguet later this year.”

Chanyeol meets Junmyeon’s eyes and the poor man looks at Chanyeol with a smile on his face.

“I knew it,” Junmyeon says, and now it’s Chanyeol’s turn to look shocked.

“How do you—”

“Irene,” Junmyeon replies, smiling, “She’s our eldest sister’s best friend. Did you think she wouldn’t tell me the moment you spilled your guts?”

“Oh _god_ ,” Chanyeol admits, and feels embarrassment flood his veins. “I told her that I—that I’ve been a _fan_ of Jongin’s for _years_ . Since the first collaboration magazine cover he had on _Elle_ that _she_ did. Oh my God, oh my God,” Chanyeol exclaims, freaking out.

“And,” Junmyeon adds, “I did my research. Mr. Kim informed us you were… a _fan_ , as you say. But he also informed me you were the _best_ for the job. His judgment has never steered me wrong before.”

“I’m gonna _kill_ Jongdae when we get home,” Chanyeol mutters, hearing Junmyeon’s amused snort in front of him.

“Trust me, Junmyeon,” Chanyeol says, after a moment of silence, “I would never want to hurt Jongin.” He lets out a long, shuddering sigh, and looks up at Junmyeon with wide eyes. “That was… humiliating to admit,” he says, covering his face in his hands. “It’s even more humiliating that you already knew.”

“I don’t know if Irene told Jongin,” Junmyeon speaks truthfully. “But knowing her…” Junmyeon shakes his head at the thought. “Have you told Jongin yourself?”

“No,” Chanyeol says quickly, “it feels… like it would be too much?” He laughs at himself, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t want him or you to think that I agreed to this because of some ulterior motive. This is my _job._ And I’m damn good at it. I didn’t even… it never crossed my mind…” Chanyeol shakes his head, sighing. 

“I know you had no ulterior motive,” Junmyeon says, and his tone is reassuring instead of pissed, so Chanyeol counts that as a win at least.

“But this,” he continues, “this with my brother, over the last couple of days—”

“We only slept together last night,” Chanyeol butts in, desperate to make sure Junmyeon understands. 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes in response. “If you think this only started yesterday, you’re an even bigger idiot that I could’ve imagined. You might be a dumbass, but I’m not stupid enough to miss the fact that Jongin has been _lusting_ after you since the introductions in the studio last week—actually,” Junmyeon says, a mischievous glint in his eye, “ever since Mr. Kim showed us your profile picture at his offices when we first briefly met to find someone suitable for the job. Jongin didn’t consider anyone else. It’s why I ran the gamut on your background anyway.” Junmyeon looks at a point over Chanyeol’s shoulder. 

“What are you—” Chanyeol turns around, to see a freshly showered Jongin in his bear bathrobe leaning against the door frame of the bathroom, hair still wet from his shower. Chanyeol, too caught up in his discussion with Junmyeon, didn’t even notice when the sound of the water shut off. 

“How long have you, uh, been standing there?” Chanyeol gulps. 

“Since my _Elle_ feature cover, huh?” Jongin asks. 

“Oh no,” Chanyeol whispers. 

“And that,” Junmyeon says with a hard laugh, “is my cue to leave.” He gives Chanyeol a glare. “Fix your shit, or else, come to my room tonight and you’re on the first plane out tomorrow morning. Understood?” Chanyeol merely nods in response, as he watches Junmyeon’s retreating figure leave their room, locking the door behind him. 

“I can um, explain,” Chanyeol says, looking down at his hands. He avoids Jongin’s gaze dead on, though he can feel the eyes on him, like lasers. 

“What is there to explain?” Jongin asks, and his voice sounds closer, he goes over to the gift box _Gucci_ gave him today, at the fashion show, and pulls the clothes and accessories out one by one. Chanyeol spots the lace gloves and stockings Jongin wore in a fashion shoot earlier this week, and feels his mouth go dry again. 

“I’m a fan,” Chanyeol says, looking away. “I’m your fan,” he says the words like they’re poison. 

“So?” Jongin says. Chanyeol is staring at the drapes. “Look at me,” Jongin’s tone brokers no room for argument. 

Chanyeol turns to face him, a flush evident on his cheeks. 

“Everyone’s a fan of Kai,” Jongin says, matter of factly. “Everyone loves Kai. He’s an internationally acclaimed supermodel. He’s the face of many brands. Kai is everywhere.” Jongin’s voice is soft, yet distant. “Do you like Kai?” 

“Of course,” Chanyeol says, “I like you, Jongin. I-Especially after this past week, I really enjoy being in your company. I like you a lot.” 

“I said,” Jongin repeats, “‘Do you like _Kai_?’”

“I don’t understand your question,” Chanyeol relents, standing up from the couch. He moves closer to the bed, right in front of Jongin. “You are him. You _are_ Kai. I don’t get what you’re trying to get at here. You’re the same person to me.”

Jongin looks up at him, with big saucers for eyes. His expression is glassy, but he stares at Chanyeol with a warmth in his face Chanyeol hasn’t seen since before the show. 

“Most people would never give me the consideration,” Jongin says softly. “Most people would run a line right down the middle—or worse—expect things from me that I am incapable of giving them.” He pats the bed next to him, and Chanyeol sits down gently. 

“When Junmyeon hyung said he used to fight off men for me, he wasn’t lying. Many people see Kai and think that’s it. That I’m just the sultry image.”

Jongin turns to face Chanyeol, and grabs one of his hands in his. “Rarely do people let me inhabit both, or rather, _all,_ of myself. I said in our first meeting to call me ‘Jongin’ because ‘Kai’ was for the stage. It’s hard to live up to people’s expectations for me, when they only see me in one way.” 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like, like you were only one thing,” Chanyeol starts to say, but Jongin silences him with a wave of his hand. 

“Don’t you get it, Chanyeol?” Jongin huffs, exasperated. “You _never_ did that. You never made me feel like I didn’t live up to your expectations. You let me be a brat and steal food off your plate—you entertained all of my moods the entire week, hell, you even let me mess around with you, at every shoot. You let me fluster you,” Jongin’s hand moves from Chanyeol’s hand to his knee, squeezing tight, “you let me flirt with you, you let me demand from you… you let me be _me_ . Rarely do I get the opportunity to just… be _me._ ” 

“I-I don’t know what to say,” Chanyeol begins, as Jongin’s hand drifts up higher. 

“Irene noona told me everything,” Jongin adds, “I asked her to investigate for me.”

Chanyeol huffs out a laugh. “Of… of course you did.”

“Did you like the back bend? I think that’s my favorite position.”

“Jongin,” Chanyeol says in warning, but his tone cracks on a laugh. Of course he had Bae Joohyun doing espionage for him. _God,_ Chanyeol thinks, _no wonder she was laughing so hard at me._

“Do you get it now, Chanyeol?”

He sighs, looking at Jongin closely. Chanyeol studies his face, watches the way the water from his hair drips down onto his cheeks. “I’m just-just doing my job.” 

Jongin’s hand on his thigh stops, and he looks up at Chanyeol’s face, gaze hard. “Am I just a _job_ to you, Chanyeol?” 

“No,” he says automatically, “you’re much more than that.” 

“Good,” Jongin says, smirking, “very good.” Chanyeol’s breathing feels a little labored as Jongin’s warm palm rests itself right below where his cock is in his pants. 

“I don’t care that you’re a fan of me,” Jongin says after a beat of silence, “I’ll be a fan of yours too if it makes it easier for you to digest. I’ll memorize all the people you’ve been a bodyguard for. I’ll ask Mr. Kim for their files.” 

“That’s confidential information,” Chanyeol replies automatically.

Jongin smiles, “I can be very persuasive,” his tone like sugar. 

“I-Well I just—“

“Chanyeol,” Jongin says, and the hand removes itself from his thigh and cups his chin. “I really, really don’t care that you own my magazines. In fact, it makes me happy knowing someone as hot as you buys my things,” his fingers tighten around Chanyeol’s jaw. “Disengage from your moral compass, please.” 

“It’s not just that,” Chanyeol shakes out of Jongin’s grip, looking away. 

“What is it then?”

“I don’t do one time things,” Chanyeol announces, looking straight ahead, “and I certainly do not make a habit of sleeping with the people I’m supposed to watch over.” 

“So let’s date then,” Jongin spits out, shoulders shrugging. Chanyeol whips his neck around to look at him so fast he feels like he’s given himself whiplash. 

“What?”

“You heard me,” Jongin says, “let's date. We have chemistry. The last week has been the most fun I’ve had in such a long time,” Jongin touches his cheek. “We work well together. I want to see more of you,” he presses.

“Besides,” Jongin adds, voice dropping low, “I really, really want your cock in me this time.” 

Oh.

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, because he would be stupid to say anything else. Chanyeol feels the same way he did last night. He’s given Jongin everything he’s asked for, without question. It would be _dumb_ to deny him around this time.

“Okay,” Chanyeol’s voice is hoarse, “We can—yes. Yes, of course we can date. I should take you out on a real date. God, we’re in Milan! Oh my god, we are going on a date—”

“Freak out about the date later, please,” Jongin says, his grip on Chanyeol’s knee returning. “And please focus on the present.”

“I can do that,” Chanyeol says, squaring his shoulders. 

“Relax, take a shower, and come to bed with me,” Jongin says, “I want you to hold me, I’m very tired.”

“I can do that,” Chanyeol says.

“I know you can,” Jongin smiles, before leaning in and kissing Chanyeol’s mouth softly, “because you’re a good boy.” 

Chanyeol returns the kiss, laughing against Jongin’s cheek. Filthy mouthed as always. “And you’re an even better one,” he whispers against Jongin’s ear, hearing the intake of breath Jongin sucks in, before Chanyeol gets off the bed and grabs his clothes, heading to the shower. 

Tonight will be a good night, indeed.

***

When Chanyeol gets out of the shower, dressed in just a pair of black underwear, he sees Jongin laying on the bed, the overhead lights of the bedroom on but dimmed down to a nice warm glow, with the blanket pulled up all the way to his neck. Chanyeol smiles at the sight before him, before plopping on top of the blanket covering Jongin.

“We don’t have to have sex right now,” Chanyeol says, cradling Jongin’s face. “We can just go to sleep.”

“But I want it,” Jongin demands, voice harsh, “I want it.”

“I thought you wanted me to hold you?”

“That too,” he exasperates, moving under the covers. Chanyeol spares a quick glance to the side, seeing his own reflection in the wall mirror. With the lights in the room on now, even dimmed this low, he can clearly see himself and Jongin on the bed together. A thrill runs up his spine.

“Okay, so extend out your arms from under the covers, let me hold you.”

“I have a surprise,” Jongin says, sucking his bottom lip in his mouth, mischief clearly written on his features. “Unwrap me like a present.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes but relents anyway. He grabs the edge of the blanket and pulls back the sheet revealing the soft, golden skin of Jongin’s shoulders, the toned planes of his chest and abdomen, and the long line of his legs that go for days. 

But that’s not even the worst thing, that Chanyeol notices. No, what’s worse than Jongin being totally naked underneath the bedding, than asking Chanyeol to unwrap him like a fucking present is— 

“You like what you see?” Jongin breathes out, voice husky, long, black lace gloves on his arms up to his elbow, and matching sheer black stockings pulled up his thighs. Chanyeol feels his mouth water at the sight, making an aborted movement with his hand as he reaches out to touch. His eyes rake over Jongin’s form, dressed in the lace, before a weight settles in his gut when his eyes finally focus on the underwear.

Lace. 

_Panties._

Chanyeol gulps, and feels like the sound of his throat moving is loud enough to be heard throughout the entire room. 

“Surprise,” Jongin breathes out, and reaches out a hand to touch Chanyeol’s face. The lace is textured against his cheek, even though the fabric is so insanely supple against his skin.

“You’re trying to fucking kill me,” Chanyeol mutters, groaning. His hands flex at his sides, and he watches the way Jongin tracks the movement.

“Touch me,” he commands, “I want you to touch me.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol breathes out through his nose, “I couldn’t say no to you, even if I tried,” he joked.

Jongin answers him with a giggle before pulling him down into a kiss.

It gets hot and heavy rather quickly, and the touch of the lace against his skin makes Chanyeol burn with desire. He shucks his underwear off, already feeling himself hardening between his legs. He wants to fuck Jongin so badly, he wants to see his face this time, open in pleasure, wants to see what his _real_ expression looks like. 

Chanyeol looks up as an idea comes into his head. He moves Jongin’s body underneath him, and they now lay on the bed, sideways. Chanyeol fucks his tongue into Jongin’s mouth again, swallowing all of his whines and moans, hands roaming every possible inch of skin he can touch. Jongin’s hands are in his hair, the lace of his gloves a scratch against Chanyeol’s scalp. It only spurns him on even further, as every time he licks the roof of Jongin’s mouth gets a whine out of him.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” Chanyeol murmurs against Jongin’s skin. He pulls his mouth back from Jongin’s face, watching the line of spit connecting their mouths breaking apart. Jongin’s plump lips are red and kiss bitten, his face open and aroused.

“You’re even better,” Jongin grins, cocking one of his eyebrows up. Chanyeol moves his hands to Jongin’s hips, savoring the feel of the lace underwear on Jongin’s body. He stares down at the sight, watches the way Jongin’s hard cock presses against the band, already forming precum at the tip. 

“I’m so impatient,” Jongin whines, “I fingered myself while you were in the shower,” he admits, “you took so long.”

Chanyeol laughs, pulling Jongin’s panties off, tossing it in the same direction of his own discarded underwear.

“Were you thinking of me in the shower again, Chanyeol?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol stops his movements immediately.

“Wh-What?” His face is burning.

“That other night,” Jongin licks his lips, “I heard a noise from the bathroom, I thought you were hurt… but then I heard you _moan_ my name…”

“Oh my god, no,” Chanyeol says, “I-I can explain—”

“It was so hot,” Jongin continues, like he isn’t even phased by having heard Chanyeol masturbating to him. “I f-fingered myself that night, thinking about what you were doing in the shower.” Jongin’s face is flush, cheeks red in embarrassment. Chanyeol looks at him, mouth open in surprise.

“Oh,” he says lamely, and then the words that Jongin uttered rush into him. Chanyeol snorts, letting out a small laugh. “So-So that’s why you were so weird that night, turning the lights off—”

“I came all over myself!” Jongin lets out, tone filled with indignation. “I wasn’t in the shower like _some people_! I couldn’t just wash it off.”

“I thought you had a fever,” Chanyeol says, letting out a laugh.

“I came like, a few minutes before you opened the door! I only had enough time to hide my lube.” Jongin sighs, before looking up at Chanyeol, a grin stretching across his face. “We’re both stupid.”

“We are,” Chanyeol says, cupping Jongin’s cheek, mirroring Jongin’s smile. “We are both idiots.”

“Come on,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol looks down, noting that neither of their erections have flagged once. Jongin is still just as hard as he was when Chanyeol first looked at his cock, and Chanyeol feels a similar way looking at his own dick, red at the tip, and curving towards his abdomen. “I fingered myself, I’m open, just fucking please put it in. I spent all day thinking about you fucking me.”

“Y-You’re so fucking,” Chanyeol exasperates, “so fucking brutally honest.”

“I trust you so much as crazy as that sounds,” Jongin offers, in a moment of seriousness, “I can be myself around you.”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, gently touching his hip, “you can be whoever you want around me.” Jongin smiles at him bringing Chanyeol down to kiss him one more time, before putting his idea into motion. He flips Jongin onto his stomach, pulling him up by the hips. Chanyeol gets off the bed for a moment, turning the lights on just a little bit brighter in the room. Now, he can see himself, and Jongin, in all their glory, in the mirror on the wall now.

“Whoa,” Jongin says, breathing harshly as Chanyeol takes his spot right behind him. They make eye contact in the mirror, and Chanyeol watches as a smile crosses Jongin’s face. “You’re a genius,” he says, stretching his arms out in front of him. Chanyeol watches the lace gloves move against the bed sheets as Jongin’s fingers grip them. 

Chanyeol settles himself behind Jongin, hands splayed at his sides on his hips. He pinches Jongin’s butt, making him yelp, before spreading his cheeks wide, watching the way Jongin’s hole glistens with lube.

“You weren’t joking.”

“I told you I’m impatient.”

Chanyeol pushes two of his fingers inside Jongin’s body, and watches them slip in with ease. He goes to three immediately, working them inside Jongin, loving the desperate moans Jongin makes under him. “Look in the mirror,” he says, and he and Jongin make eye contact there once again, as Jongin insistently rocks back against Chanyeol’s hand. 

“Fuck that’s s-so hot,” Jongin stutters out, pushing his hips back. “But I want more.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Your dick in me,” Jongin demands, “you’re so slow.”

Chanyeol laughs, rolling his eyes. He removes his fingers from inside Jongin, reaching around for the lube.

“Condom?”

“Uh…” 

“Jongin,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin at least has the audacity to break his gaze in the mirror.

“Can we, um… you know. Not use one?”

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol breathes out.

“I promise I am _clean_ ,” Jongin whines, “please.”

“Fuck,” Chanyeol groans. Jongin will be the death of him. “Okay, I am too. I’m clean. But your… the stockings? The clothes?”

“I’m the fucking _face_ of Gucci,” Jongin huffs, and Chanyeol stifles a laugh, “if they get cum on them then they get _cum_ on them. I’ll ask for another pair.”

“You’re insane,” Chanyeol says, lubing up his dick to make it even easier.

“You fucking love it,” Jongin jokes back, meeting Chanyeol’s gaze in the mirror.

“I really do,” Chanyeol laughs, caressing Jongin’s stocking clothed legs, before pushing the blunt head of his cock inside him. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” Chanyeol draws out, “you are so fucking tight.”

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” Jongin whines, arching his back. His hands fall out beneath him, face pressed towards the mattress. Chanyeol stays completely still as Jongin’s body adjusts to the penetration. 

“Look at me,” Chanyeol asks, “come on I wanna see you.”

“I don’t think I can hold m’self up,” Jongin groans, voice muffled. Chanyeol looks in front of him, and the view of Jongin’s beautifully arched back on full display, face down on the bed, from a front view, makes his cock twitch inside Jongin’s body. “Oh god,” Jongin groans, “I felt that.”

“I have another idea,” Chanyeol says, and grabs Jongin’s arms in his hands, tightly gripping the lace of his gloves. He pulls Jongin’s arms back, behind his body, so that Jongin’s body is hoisted off the bed, and he can meet Jongin’s gaze in the mirror. “I’m gonna hold you up like this, how about it?”

“Holy fuck,” Jongin says, looking at Chanyeol in the mirror. He crosses his arms together behind his back, making it easier for Chanyeol to hold him up. “God, yes, yes,” he says, starting to rock back against Chanyeol’s dick. “Come on, fuck me, start moving.”

“Okay, Your Majesty,” Chanyeol says, and starts fucking into Jongin’s tight body in earnest. He never lets his gaze leave Jongin’s in the mirror, his face a picture of debauched, Jongin’s body is so tight around his cock, like a vice grip, and he clenches down against Chanyeol’s cock on every other thrust, making Chanyeol moan in pleasure. Jongin’s mouth is open in the mirror, eyes unfocused and glassy as he is lost in the pleasure. 

“Feels s’good,” Jongin cries out, voice breaking, “feels so good inside me,” he shouts. He wiggles his hands out of Chanyeol’s grip, finally getting the strength to hold himself up. Chanyeol and he never break eye contact, as Chanyeol moves his hands to Jongin’s hips, to give him better leverage as he fucks into him. They stare at each other in the mirror, both panting with exertion. Jongin gives him a blinding smile and Chanyeol answers back in kind.

They fuck for what feels like forever, and Chanyeol breaks their eye contact in the mirror long enough to gaze down and see where his cock disappears into Jongin. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Jongin,” Chanyeol huffs out, eyes trained on Jongin’s entrance, “you just suck me in so easily, like you little hole was made for my dick.”

“Argh,” Jongin wheezes, clenching down on Chanyeol’s cock, “you fill me up so good, so good,” Chanyeol brain is filled with nothing but the sound of his hips slamming against Jongin’s ass, the sounds of their harsh breathing reverberating around the room. "Swear I've never felt so _full_ ," he whines, pushing back against Chanyeol's movements.

“Want you to fuck my mouth again,” Chanyeol says out, “I’ll swallow around your dick just as good as l-last time—even better.”

“Fucking holding you to it,” Jongin grunts out, rocking back harshly against every single thrust of Chanyeol’s. They rock together like that, in tandem, a push and pull. Chanyeol holds Jongin's gaze in the mirror, and feels arousal bloom hot in his gut as his eyes trace the line of Jongin's jaw, the roundness of his nose, the shape of his eyes. Jongin really _is_ the most beautiful man Chanyeol has ever seen. And he feels a streak of possessiveness flood his veins. Chanyeol moves his hands from Jongin’s hips to across his torso, hauling him up into a sitting position. Jongin’s back is plastered to his chest, as they stare into the mirror before them looking at each other. Chanyeol moves one of his hands to play with Jongin’s nipples, causing him to let out a whimper.

"'Kai' might belong to everyone," Chanyeol huffs out, fingers pinching Jongin's nipple, "but _you_ belong to _me_. How does that sound?"

"Oh my f- _fucking god,_ " Jongin spits out, "yeah, yeah I do." he spreads his thighs wider, opening himself up more. Chanyeol runs one of his hands over the stocking on Jongin's leg, a visible shudder running up Jongin's spine.

"You're _mine_ ," he spits out, catching Chanyeol's eyes. Jongin puts his lace gloved hand over Chanyeol's, against his chest, and squeezes his arm. "You hear me, Chanyeol?" Jongin's voice is breathless, "you're not f-fucking anyone else, but me. You're _mine_."

" _Fuck_ ," Chanyeol grits out, "you're so fucking hot."

"Mhmm," Jongin hums, lost in the pleasure.

Chanyeol's eyes catch on Jongin’s dick in the mirror, dripping so much precum from the tip, so red, ready to burst. 

“Bet you can come like this,” Chanyeol says, continuing his ministrations. He gently rocks his hips up. Jongin moans again, head lolling back against Chanyeol’s shoulder. “Look at yourself,” he says, “look at how good you take dick.”

Jongin moves his head off Chanyeol’s shoulder and looks in the mirror, their eyes locking once again. “Harder,” he whispers, breathless, and Chanyeol complies, fucking up into Jongin even more. This new position gives them a better angle to watch each other, and Chanyeol’s so intently focused on the glazed over, fucked out expression Jongin’s wearing on his face.

“You’re so tight around me,” he continues, “just wanna keep you stuffed full of my dick, just wanna keep you on my cock,” he mumbles, pure lust taking over him, “wanna fuck you in all your clothes, wanna bend your-your fucking legs so far back you got your knees at your chest.”

Jongin laughs at that, smirk on his face. “That photoshoot fucked you up didn’t it?”

“More than,” Chanyeol huffs out, voice harsh, his movements start to stutter, he knows he’s so close to finishing.

"Wait 'til you see me ride dick," Jongin gasps, pushing back against Chanyeol even though their positions makes it near impossible. 

"Your mouth is fucking insane," Chanyeol breathes, "you're a dream."

Jongin chuckles against Chanyeol's neck, a choked off, broken sound. Chanyeol bites Jongin’s ear, causing him to let out a whine. “I wanted to take you there, on the floor, in front of everyone at the studio," Chanyeol says, "spread your legs out and just fuck you. Would you let me fuck you how I want too, Jonginnie?” The nickname slips out of his mouth. Jongin moans in response.

“You’re f-fucking me how you want right now,” Jongin says, his voice going high pitched. Chanyeol knows he must be so close. He flicks Jongin’s nipples again, watching him shudder.

“I have so many fantasies,” Chanyeol whispers, sharing his dirty little secret, “so many things I’ve thought of. Me fucking you, bending you in half, or… or,” Chanyeol breathes harshly through his nose, hips stuttering, “you fucking _me_ , me riding your dick, while I held you down, and just made you watch. Would you like that?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jongin cries, letting out a guttural moan. Chanyeol watches in the mirror as Jongin’s dick twitches, abdomen going concave again, as he lets out a long, loud whine, coming all over his stomach, cum dripping down the sides of his thighs, falling onto the bed sheets below.

It’s only a few more thrusts into Jongin’s body, his hole clenching tightly around Chanyeol before he is coming just as hard as Jongin did, vision whiting out as he releases himself inside Jongin's hole. He squeezes Jongin’s body tight to his own, as they both pant harshly in the aftermath of their orgasms. Chanyeol pulls out of Jongin gently, and hears Jongin let out a faint whine of dissent.

“Put it back,” he says feebly, “wanna keep the cum inside me.”

“God,” Chanyeol says, looking at Jongin who’s now laying on his back staring up at him. “You’re insane. You’re _insane_ … fuck. _I_ am insane. You’re so hot, it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Jongin grins, smile on his fucked out face. His hair is stuck to his forehead, and sweat covers every part of his body. His cheeks are flushed dark red, and his eyes are still blown wide in arousal. 

Chanyeol thinks Jongin has never looked more beautiful, so he tells him.

“You really are the most beautiful man in the world,” Chanyeol says softly, slotting himself between Jongin’s spread thighs, and kissing him on the mouth. He says it because he can. He says it because he's allowed.

“We’re already dating,” Jongin replies, rolling his eyes, “you don’t need to flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery when I’m just telling the truth,” Chanyeol’s tone carries a finality to it. “You are the most _beautiful_ man I have ever and will ever see.”

“Shut up,” Jongin whines, getting shy. He covers his face with his hands, the lace gloves over his eyes.

“Most beautiful boy in the whole world,” Chanyeol sing-songs, grabbing Jongin’s hands off his face to kiss him again. They make out for a while, each just breathing into each other’s space. Chanyeol inhales Jongin’s scent, soaks in his aura. He pulls Jongin close in his arms, there’s really no one else he’d rather hold.

“Sorry about the stockings,” Chanyeol murmurs, kissing Jongin’s nose. Jongin grins at him, playfully biting Chanyeol’s cheek. He pulls the gloves off his hands, throwing them across the room, before pulling his legs up to take off the stockings. 

“I can feel your cum inside me and dripping out of me,” Jongin says, panting, “it’s kinda hot.” He throws the stockings to the side of the bed, and now, with his hands bare, grabs Chanyeol’s cheeks again. 

“We should shower,” Chanyeol reminds, as he starts to feel uncomfortable at the drying cum on his body. He can’t even imagine how Jongin feels. 

“Wash me,” Jongin simply says, moving to get up out of bed. He stands in front of Chanyeol who’s still laying on the bed, watching Jongin with a hungry gaze. “By the way,” he adds, “didn’t you say something about wanting me to fuck your mouth again?” Jongin grins before racing to the bathroom, and Chanyeol can’t do anything but laugh, as he gets up off the bed, chasing after him.

***

“So I can safely assume everything went well last night, huh?” Junmyeon asks over breakfast.

Chanyeol chokes on his orange juice, before reaching a napkin to wipe at his mouth. He looks at Junmyeon, who doesn’t even _pretend_ to be sorry. 

“It was amazing, hyung,” Jongin says, giddy, and Junmyeon makes a face of disgust. 

“I don’t wanna know details,” Junmyeon replies, cutting into his breakfast of sweet, raspberry pie. He takes a sip of his coffee before looking at Chanyeol directly. “I’m just glad it’s resolved.”

“It is,” Chanyeol says, but glances to Jongin next to him. “It is, right? Like… like we’re okay?” 

Jongin reaches out a hand and pats Chanyeol’s cheek. “Of course we are,” he says, pushing himself even closer into Chanyeol’s space. Jongin grabs one of Chanyeol’s hands and places it on his thigh. Chanyeol gives him a squeeze, smiling behind his glass of orange juice. He starts picking off the pastries on his plate, bringing one of the _cornettos_ to his lips, before he feels a pinch at his side. 

“Yes, baby?” Chanyeol says, grabbing Jongin’s hand under the table.

“I want that pastry in your hand,” Jongin whines, his voice taking on that same, childlike quality he uses when he wants something. The kind of tone of voice that lets Chanyeol know that Jongin trusts him with his whole self. _Completely._

“Of course,” Chanyeol holds the _cornetto_ out in front of Jongin’s mouth, and he moves forward to take a bite. The pastry is crispy on the outside, and Chanyeol watches as the custard filling oozes out of the side, getting on the corner of Jongin’s mouth. He swipes it off with his finger, before sucking the custard filling off his thumb and into his mouth.

“Disgusting,” Junmyeon says, and Chanyeol glances at him, slightly embarrassed. 

“You’re just jealous,” Jongin fires back, sticking out his tongue at his older brother. 

Junmyeon rolls his eyes before digging back into his _singular crostata_. He cuts a piece of the raspberry pie and lifts it up to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I am really glad you didn’t come to my room last night,” Junmyeon says, eyes directed at Chanyeol. “I would’ve been really upset at you.” 

“Me?” Chanyeol asks, squeezing Jongin’s fingers under the table again. 

“Yeah,” Junmyeon groans, “because that means I would’ve had to deal with like three whole days of this one,” he points his fork at Jongin, “moping like a heartbroken little shit!” 

“Hey!” Jongin whines, “I do not _mope._ ”

Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “Oh, but you _do_ pine! ‘Hyung, he’s so hot. Hyung, he’s so buff. Hyung, he’s _so_ tall.”” 

Jongin’s silence is enough of an answer. 

Chanyeol can’t help the laugh that startles out of him at the look of utter embarrassment that clouds Jongin’s features. His mouth is slightly open, a huff of breath escaping, as the most noticeable blush Chanyeol’s ever seen rises to his cheeks. 

“Don’t laugh,” Jongin says meekly, and Chanyeol squeezes his leg in solidarity. “I pine too,” he says, before offering the _cornetto_ back to Jongin to take a bite of again. Jongin’s eyes sparkle around the breakfast pastry, tongue peeking out past his lips to get the custard filling in his mouth before it falls on his shirt. 

“I can’t even be mad,” Junmyeon rolls his eyes, “it’s kind of cute now.” 

“I think I want a different kind of cream,” Jongin says, wiping the corner of his mouth with his fingers. 

“Aaaaand it’s back to being gross,” Junmyeon says, his fork clattering against his plate. “I cannot stand you, Jongin. This entire trip you had me bow out of nearly all managerial duties at the photoshoots just because you wanted Chanyeol there instead. And don’t even pretend for a second, Irene told me what you put her up to as well!”

“That’s old news,” Jongin says towards Junmyeon, but his eyes stay focused on Chanyeol. He’s got a hungry look in his gaze, but the smile he gives Chanyeol is soft. 

“Finish your breakfast,” Chanyeol says, motioning down to Jongin’s nearly untouched plate. “And then we’ll see about getting you that cream you’re asking for.” 

Jongin laughs loudly at Chanyeol’s words, while Junmyeon just looks petrified. 

“You two are the worst,” he says. 

“Get used to it,” Jongin says, squeezing Chanyeol’s hand. “I think he’s gonna be here for awhile.” 

That gives Junmyeon pause. “Yeah?” He says, looking at Chanyeol, seriousness in his face. 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says, feeling a little like he’s been put on trial. He grips Jongin’s hand in his. “So long as he lets me.”

“I think I’ll keep letting you,” Jongin’s accompanying smile is blinding. 

They finish their breakfast rather quickly after that, polishing off the last of the pastries on their plates, before bidding their goodbyes to Junmyeon. 

“I’m off for the day, right?” Jongin says, jutting out his bottom lip. 

“Yes, yes you are now outta my sight!” Junmyeon says exasperated, but the fondness in his tone is overwhelming. 

“Don’t look for us,” Jongin says. 

“Maybe don’t come to the hotel room unannounced either,” Chanyeol adds, trying hard to keep a straight face. They take their leave and walk the short distance back to the hotel, hands brushing against each other. Chanyeol lets the morning din of Milan soak into his system, a nice spot of rejuvenation.

“So,” Jongin says, once they’re back at their hotel and in the elevator to their floor. “Which one of those fantasies would you like to act out first?” 

Chanyeol smirks at Jongin, pushing him up against the elevator wall. “How about a reality, instead?” Chanyeol muses, mouth next to Jongin’s ear, “Since you heard me jerking off in the bathroom, I want you to show me how you get yourself off. How does that sound?”

Jongin cuts himself off mid groan as the elevator door dings on their level. He looks to Chanyeol before he lets out a deep breath. “No time to waste,” he says, a little breathless, as he starts manhandling Chanyeol, dragging him along by the arm to their suite. 

Chanyeol lets himself be pulled into their shared room, and presses Jongin right up against the door, boxing him in between his arms. 

“I love Gucci,” Chanyeol says, breathlessly, and a bit dazed, as he kisses the laughter right out of Jongin’s mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! don't forget to leave a kudos and to let me know what you liked about it in the comments below. the feedback makes me smile. continue to anticipate more works from me in the future :') 
> 
> ❤️


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